the last secret of Dumbledore
by Evyheartway
Summary: The night of the battle the trio retrieved Severus Snape from the shack to Hogwarts. He had not expected to survive the war and feels broken. But it’s sometimes when we don’t expect anymore,that life grants us what what we have ever dreamt of...
1. Chapter 1

The last secret of Dumbledore

The night of the battle the trio retrieved Severus Snape from the shack and took him to Hogwarts. He had not expected to survive the war and feels broken, empty and useless. But it's sometimes when we don't expect anymore, when we let it go that life grants us what we have ever dreamt of. But Death Eathers are still out there…

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are copyright from J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I'm only playing with them.

Chapter 1 : prequel

A few paragraphs were added to the beginning of chapter 33, "The Prince's Tale."

Original text from Rowling is written in slanting characters.

Beataed by wonderful Sindie /u/46567/Sindie

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_(…)_

"_It'll be all right," __said Hermione wildly. "Let's – let's get back to the castle, if he's gone to the Forest, we'll need to think of a new plan-" She glanced at Snape's body_,

"We just can't leave him in there." She knelt at his side, checking for his pulse.

Ron had already got back to the tunnel entrance.

_Har__ry gathered up the Invisibility Cloak, then looked down at Snape. He did not know what to feel, except shock at the way Snape had been killed, and the reason for which it had to be done…_

"He's still alive!"

Harry watched as Hermione cast a spell on Snape's wounds to prevent them from further bleeding. She conjured a stretcher and levitated him onto it. "Mobilicorpus." The stretcher carrying Snape's limp body floated in front of her.

_They crawled back through the tunnel, none of them talking, and Harry wondered whether Ron or Hermione could still hear Voldemort ringing in their heads, as he could._

_(...)_

_The injured were being treated up on the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers. Firenze was amongst the injured; his flank poured blood and he shook where he lay, unable to stand._

Hermione led the stretcher with Snape's body to the platform with Madam Pomfrey. She looked down and frowned with disgust when she recognized the man. Then she stared at them, a hand on her hip, brushing the sweat off her face and her hair with the other.

"Voldemort's snake… bit him," Harry simply said.

"Well…We- are not- killers at least..." Madam Pomfrey said when she finally bent over him to see what she could do.

_(__…)_

_Original chapter to the end, except__ for the epilogue. My story is planned to be epilogue compatible, so you could re-read it after…_

Author's Postnote:

When I first read this chapter, I was shocked that none of them would try something to save Snape. And all the more that they just let his body lay where it was. We know Harry hates him, but he had always been merciful toward his enemies. For instance, he saved or tried to save Peter Pettigrew's life twice. And Harry knew that Peter was indeed the man who betrayed his parents and caused their death in first place. So why no mercy for Snape? Dumbledore's death, I think...but still and nevertheless shocking. ;-)


	2. Chapter 2

beataed by Sindie /u/46567/Sindie

thank you so much sindie!

(go check her story "the Moment it began" , it's wonderful...)

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Chapter two

First day after the battle.

It was shortly after two o'clock in the afternoon when a woman clad in a purple sweater and jeans Apparated in front of the heavy gates of Hogwarts. Her dark red hair swirled down her shoulders. She dropped her suitcase and cast a look around her: stones and rubble were spread everywhere in the park, testifying for the battle that had just been fought a few hours ago. Her gaze rose back to the familiar castle figure and lingered over it.

She was back at last. Lily Evans Potter could hardly believe it. The news she had heard in the morning had been whirling into her head ever since, making her dizzy. The war was over and Harry had survived. How would she manifest herself to him? She didn't know yet, she just wanted to hope for a joyful reunion. In her first years of exile, Dumbledore had carefully sent her news and photographs. But over the late three years owls had been pretty scarce. He had been tightly watched, and keeping in close touch had become more and more risky. His latest mail and photographs dated from a year and half ago. Harry must have grown up even more; he was a man now.

To see him again, to be reunited with him, that was what mattered to her most…all her thinking and wishes were turned toward him…at least she thought. No, not really...another name pushed to her mind like a dagger into her heart.

…_Severus…_

He had been murdered by Voldemort's hand a few hours before the final victory. That was to say just a few hours ago. The pain from this loss was excruciating. She felt the familiar tingling of tears rise in her throat and forced herself to breathe slowly to fight them back.

From the latest news she had heard, Harry had publicly cleared the late Hogwarts' headmaster of any crimes while fighting Voldemort. To learn both his ultimate loyalty and his death at the same time was so wry of a fate. Dumbledore's death had been a plan….The old headmaster had asked Severus to kill him…for the greater good. She swallowed hard.

_Severus…how could I mistrust you so much?_

She handled her suitcase back and pushed the gate open. Luckily it wasn't locked. She strolled slowly toward the castle, so she could gather her mind.

She knew he had turned away from Voldemort to Dumbledore as soon as he had understood the dark wizard would want to harm her. He had trusted Dumbledore to protect her and her family, giving him anything he wanted in return. Therefore, he had then risked his life as a spy. And afterwards…well…

She stopped again, surveying the landscape around her and breathed deeply. A cawing raven flew by, heading toward the castle's high towers.

Afterwards she had asked Dumbledore for news of Severus too. When he was told of her death, he had been devastated, wishing he was dead. She had been still angry at him at that time for telling his master the Prophecy, and she had been numb by grieving James and missing her child, but still, she hadn't been wanting him to suffer… not that much – oh, God…and she had cried, not to be able to tell him she was still alive.

Dumbledore had offered him a goal in protecting Harry, and since then, he had been fulfilling this mission secretly. Their relationship was difficult from the very beginning. But assuming that Harry was a tad like his father and Severus …Merlin…was ever Severus, there was nothing to be surprised about.

Anyway, for his sake, it was better this way. Since the dark wizard had returned, Severus was spying for Dumbledore again, pretending to be a Death Eater. Harry could have betrayed to Voldemort where his true loyalties lay. Severus was very good at Occlumency, so he could look the snake-faced wizard straight in the eyes and still bury his true feelings.

But still he risked his life every day, and she had hoped against hope he would survive this war. But no, he had to pass away…A wave of sad bitterness clenched her chest, and she imaged his tall and thin figure, his black hair waving around in the wind, floating somewhere far away…in heaven…

Hearsays about Dumbledore's murder had upset her so much. How could he possibly have? Had he turned to the dark path again? No…No…Deep inside her heart, she had wanted to believe there had been a good explanation for it.

_Sev…m__y best friend....you always were…_

She took a deep shuddering breath and stepped forward.

She had always had a deep attachment to Severus, still after they had parted ways. He was…There had been no one like him in her life. He had led her in the wizardry world, had helped her take confidence in her abilities. They had shared their childhood, their teens…but slowly their paths had diverged, and everything had fallen apart that day…that day she had refused to forgive him for that word. Her heart sank at this bitter memory. Had she been able to understand him fully then, things may have been different. Might she have found a way to help him out of his bunch of wannabe Death Eaters? Might she have managed to persuade him to drop dark magic or at least not to use it anymore? She would have probably never become closer to James then. She had loved him, of course, but it had been different…

She paused once again at the bottom of the few steps leading to the front doors. There she was… and had not met any single human being yet. She sighed sadly. Severus had had such a painful and miserable life. Without his selflessness, would Harry have managed to defeat Voldemort? She was not sure. From the depth of her aching heart spread the comforting warmth of gratitude. This feeling soothed her a little, making her immense grief a tad more easily suffered.

_Thank you__, Sev...I hope you hear me from where you are…_

_._

_We will meet again__, my friend,_

_A hundred years from today__,_

_Far away from where we lived_

_And where we used to play._

_We will know each others' eyes_

_And wonder where we met__;_

_Your laugh will sound familiar__._

_Your heart, I won't forget._

_We will meet, I'm sure of this…_

_(Ron Atchison)_

She wiped a few threatening tears out of her eyes and walked up the stairs to the grand heavy doors, stepping over rubble with a heavy heart. She made up her mind to start by helping people and headed toward the hospital wing.


	3. Chapter 3

First of all, I'd like to thank my readers so much for the story alerts, faves, and reviews; it means truly a lot to me and provides great support!!! Thank you so much!

Betaed by Sindie: .net/u/46567/Sindie

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Chapter Three

According to the amount of injured and how exhausted the unharmed were, any help was welcome. Madam Pomfrey and her helpers' team hadn't slept the whole night.

Lily made herself useful, dispensing pain-easing cures and comforting words. Many house elves were among the injured. They had probably fought hard, too. Everybody in Hogwarts had, it seemed. When she came upon the last bed in the row, she froze in shock. She almost dropped her tray full of bottles on the floor.

_Severus!_

For it was Severus, no doubt it was. Even after all this time, she couldn't be wrong. Her heart started to pound so heavily that her head throbbed. He looked awful. His face was incredibly white, his black hair sticky with sweat, and his features drawn and crumpled. A huge bandage surrounded his neck. He was wearing black clothes that had been messed with blood, his blood…She felt sick at the thought. He still had his cloak and boots on. No changes in his build and figure, however; he was just as thin as in his twenties. Her gaze lingered on the long fingers of his resting dead-still on the sheet. Except from the slight up and down move of his chest, he could have been thought dead.

She laid her tray on the small bedside table and pulled a chair from nearby close to his bed. She sat down, breathing shallow. Her eyes glued to him again and she forgot everything around.

_My God__, Severus…_

"It's hard to believe he still lives," said the voice of a woman behind her. "He's lost so much blood, without even thinking of the venom he has been infected with."

Lily did not react for a moment, as though the words had a long way to travel to reach her mind. She turned back. Madam Pomfrey stood behind her. She held a vial in her right hand and a fresh shirt laid across her other arm. She set the shirt on the backrest of the chair, popped up the lid of the tiny bottle and sighed heavily.

"And Merlin knows I was about to let him die! We all deeply misjudged him, you know. Harry publicly cleared him when he fought Voldemort in the Great Hall."

She leaned toward Severus and slowly emptied the bottle in his mouth, gently rubbing his throat to get him to swallow. He did. Then she pulled her wand out, mumbled a few spells, and checked his breath and pulse rate.

"He was in love with Harry's mother actually...deeply in love...has always been…and as soon as You-Know-Who threatened her, he went to Dumbledore and worked for him against the dark side ever since. Dumbledore arranged his death with him…He was already dying when he killed him, you know…"

Lily had a hard time listening to Madam Pomfrey... She was trying to hold back overwhelming feelings. Luckily Madam Pomfrey was called away; someone needed help with Firenze. He had tossed and turned, and his wounds bled again.

Once alone again, Lily let tears flow down freely. She didn't know whether it was relief or worry, maybe both. She reached a hand out and carefully caressed his forehead and then gently let her finger comb though his hair. He had no response showing he felt the touch.

"Sev… please… hold on."

She took his still-dead hand in hers. It was ice cold; she shuddered. She stayed still a long time, simply watching him. Her eyes slowly charted the curve of his jaw, the scowl between his eyebrows, and wrinkles that already furrowed his thin face. She heard footsteps behind her and reluctantly let go of his hand. Madam Pomfrey was back.

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"Oh...yes," she blurted awkwardly. The question had caught her unexpected. The sight of a long black-haired skinny boy wearing odd clothes crossed her mind. She could remember his gaze, both exited and terrified when he had whispered, "I know what you are..."

"A childhood friend…actually," she stated a little more firmly, her look still blank, lost somewhere in her memories.

"Professor Snape is rather a kind of …mysterious man. He's never spoken of any friend of his," replied Madam Pomfrey, her voice sounding a little suspicious.

Lily turned back and looked up at the healer. She saw her questioning face immediately turn commiserative. She recalled the tears, and she rubbed her eyes with her sleeve.

"I-I heard he was dead?" she asked

"I know newspapers announced him dead… Probably because You-Know-Who claimed he had killed him…They didn't bother check after him…"

Lily was longing to ask about his chance of survival, but she also dreaded the answer. So she stayed quiet.

"I've been merely dealing with emergencies so far. Let's make him a little more comfortable now," offered Madam Pomfrey.

Lily simply nodded and stood up, a little shaky on her feet. They started to cautiously unfasten his messed robes. Underneath, his once white shirt was completely drenched with blood. It had dried by now, and the shirt was stiff and stuck to his skin. It made it difficult to take it off. Lily felt queasy at the sight of it.

"Are you all right?" asked Madam Pomfrey, a little concerned. "If you don't deal well with blood, I can ask someone for help."

"No-No, I'll be fine; I'll help you." She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She had only heard of this war- second war- not really seen anything. She realized it somewhat for the first time.

_I will have to face more of it...no doubt I will…_

Madam Pomfrey cast a cleaning spell on Severus and started to dress him with the new shirt with Lily's help. They made sure to move him as little as possible. Then they took off his boots.

"Why is he still here? I mean, he is badly hurt. I can't see any other badly injured here. I presume they have been sent to St. Mungo's?" enquired Lily, carefully setting the boots at the foot of the bed.

"Professor McGonagall's order. She's afraid he could be taken to Azkaban," replied the healer gloomily.

"What?! In his state? It would be absolutely ruthless!" Lily cried out, looking indignant. "Besides…they-they must have heard what Harry said!" she added, grabbing the bottom guardrail of the bed and propping herself on it.

Lily's outburst lighted a brief smile on the healer's face as she pulled the sheet over Severus.

"You know…the Ministry…the Wizengamot.... As long as he has not been properly exonerated, he's assumed to be a Death Eater and Dumbledore's murderer, too. He is safer here."

She looked up to Lily and saw the frightened look on her face.

"Nobody will allow the Ministry to fetch him here. We all believe what Harry said. They won't dare oppose Hogwarts' teachers withstanding. Besides, don't worry about his treatment, my dear. I asked the healers at St. Mungo's, the ones who cured Mr. Weasley two years ago. He had been bitten by the same sake. So your friend will be best taken care off. I assure you, we will do everything we can."

Lily remained silent, peering at the healer's eyes to find a clue concerning her true hopes about Severus' recovery. She could feel a strange feeling deep inside slowly but steadily coming up and blossoming. She couldn't exactly figure out what it was.

"I'd like to watch him overnight, if you don't mind, of course..."

"Suit yourself" answered Madam Pomfrey, peering at her."I must go and see Professor Slughorn. He needs to brew more cures. I'll fetch some more pain-reducing vials in case you need more of it. Then I'll get some sleep. It's a good thing to have someone watching over him. You can send a house elf after me in case of an emergency."

"I'll do."

Madam Pomfrey nodded and looked at her a few seconds more. She picked up the dirty clothes and finally turned on her heels. Lily looked down at Severus. He was sweating heavily and moaning. Sitting back at his bedside, she took his hand in hers and leaned toward him, drawing her mouth only an inch away from his ear.

"Severus …Please, hold on… I can't… stand losing you one more time," she whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

Betaed by Sindie: .net/u/46567/Sindie

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Chapter Four

_I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me,_

_I still feel your touch in my dreams,_

_Forgive me my weakness but I don't know why,_

_Without you it's hard to survive..._

_("__ Everytime We Touch", Cascada)_

Red eyes – red, burning, malevolent eyes were staring at him.

"It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand and master Potter at last."

A hideous hiss shrieked in his ears, and he could feel the weight of the snake on his shoulders. An awful scream - his own scream - echoed in his head. Excruciating pain burst in his neck and spread to his whole body. His life was flowing away.

_NO..__. NO…not yet... the Potter boy…has to know... the plan…the truth…I don't want to die without telling him the truth._

And then, when everything seemed to be lost, a little miracle: the boy appeared and knelt at his side. _Gather what strength is left._

"_Take…it…take…it.__"_

_The boy__ did thanks to the Granger Girl. Oh, the pain, I can't stand it anymore… It's over…_

"_Look__… at… me…"_

The boy's emerald eyes….Lily's eyes glared at him. He relaxed. His lips moved weakly.

_Lily…_

A sad and lovely voice whispered in his ear.

"I'm here, Sev...please hold on."

He tried to crack an eye open, but his lids were so heavy, he couldn't.

_Lily__, is that you?_

Someone lifted his head and poured something in his mouth. He swallowed. The tense and pain in his nerves reduced, and he drifted into slumber.

xxxxx

As soon as Harry woke in the Gryffindor tower, his stomach rumbled. He rolled over on his side and looked gratefully a plate full of sandwiches at his bedside. Most certainly Kreacher had taken care of it. He had slept the afternoon through, but he still felt so weary and fuzzy-headed. He picked up a piece of bread, but finally set it down; he didn't feel much like eating anything after all. He got up and went to the bathroom. He splashed fresh water on his face. Slowly his memories came back.

_Victory…dead people...friends…Remus, Tonks…Teddy Lupin an orphan…Fred…and so many others…_

He took a deep breath. Water dripped from his nose and chin into the sink. He fetched a towel and rubbed his face. After a moment of staying buried in the cloth, he finally laid it on the rack, went back to his bed, and sat.

…_And Snape's __ amazing memories…_

_Professor Snape__,_ he corrected. He had no time to really think about it so much, he was so caught up with his own death and the battle last night. He felt a little ill now. He had fostered so much hatred for the man.

_No one guessed__._

He tried to comfort himself by the thought, but he was not really convinced. Actually, he had not really tried to figure anything out. He had decided long ago that this man was his enemy and had then only seen what strengthened his beliefs. He felt a little guilty for that. Love, it was all about love once more. The thing Voldemort never understood. Then he thought of Ginny and smiled weakly. But the sight of Fred's body surrounded by his family pushed into his mind again, and the smile faded.

He got to his feet and made his way to the Great Hall. He needed to be with them. The company of those who had fought and suffered together was something he knew could comfort him.

He found Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sitting with the Weasleys and Professor McGonagall.

"The staff and myself...have thought…that they could be buried here on Hogwarts grounds. If families agree, of course…" she choked, and her voice broke. She paused and breathed slowly, then she pursued: "So they will stay forever in our memory. Their sacrifice to our world will be honoured forever here at Hogwarts."

Molly Weasley lifted her head and simply nodded. Her eyes were bloodshot, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Arthur stretched his arm around her shoulders and let her bury her head in his chest. Hermione somehow became aware of Harry standing there and moved up the bench to let him sit between her and Ginny. They ate very quietly. Most of them simply shoved the food in their mouths, not really hungry.

After dinner, they gathered with other people in the hall and strolled down the stairs to a big, cold room in the dungeons where the dead had been moved. The Weasleys and Hermione came upon Fred's body. Harry stood a step behind them. They were dead for him, after all, and he suddenly felt indecent. But Ron turned to look at him. Gathering his courage, Harry took a step forward and reached for his hand. He turned to Ginny at his left and took her hand, too. And they simply grieved together for their brother and friends.

xxxxx

The sun had set by now. An ethereal glow from the outside cloudless early summer night's sky filled the room. It was completely quiet now, except for a few snores. Lily pulled the chair sideways against the bed and curled up on it. Severus looked so vulnerable, so pale, and so weak. Her gaze drifted to his chest, watching closely for his breathing. She had set her mind to stay by him till…well, if he was to die...- a surge of sadness overwhelmed her at the thought-… she wanted to spend his last hours with him…

But maybe…maybe…he would recover, and she was determined to give all her strength to make that happen. Harry would wait a little longer. She shifted on the chair, laid an elbow on the bed, and rested her head in her hand. Her head grew heavier and heavier and leant toward the mattress until it finally rested on it. Her eyes closed. The quiet sound of his soft breathing and his homelike smell lulled her into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Betaed by Sindie: .net/u/46567/Sindie

Chapter 5

Second day after the battle

In the small hours of the morning Lily awoke at the sound of an almost animal groan. Severus was huddled up on the bed, tangled in the sheet, his hands grasping at the edge of the mattress. He seemed to be under acute suffering. It broke her heart.

_Oh, Merlin...Sev, it's so unfair…_

She cautiously laid one hand on his arm, but he cried out in pain and his hands grasped tighter on the mattress. She took off her hand immediately.

_Damned snake!_

He had already been administrated the top measure of this pain-reducing draught Madam Pomfrey had prescribed. Was there nothing she could do? She couldn't stand watching him suffer without being able to do anything to alleviate his pain or at least support him. She didn't dare touch him again. Should she wake the Healer up? She might have an extra potion for such acute soreness.

But all of a sudden he began to convulse. An icy fear broke over her neck, down to her spine. What if this was the end? She felt transfixed; what should she be doing?

Go and look for help? _Waste of time._ Stay and watch? S_illy._ Hold him? _But he hurts._

He was dangerously close to the edge of the bed; he could fall. Without thinking anymore, she rushed and seized him fully. Surprisingly, he didn't cry this time nor did he show any sign of increased pain, so she held on to him firmly. He was not as heavy as she could have supposed he would be. She held him tight against her until his muscles relaxed. He fell back in her arms, sluggish, pale, his head hanging backward.

_My God...is he-is he…?_

She struggled through his shirt with one free trembling hand, searching for a pulse, completely freaked out. She couldn't find one. She felt more and more wretched every second, and a warm dampness began to flow down along her cheeks to her neck.

A soft muttering…hardly a whisper tickled her ears… He was trying to speak. _My God, he_ _lives._ She moved her hand away from his chest and slid it under his head, pulling it up carefully. She leant forward, her face so close to his mouth that she could feel his soft puffing on her skin. His lips moved again. She held her breath.

"Lily…" It was barely a murmur.

More tears burst out from her eyes at the shock. He was calling for her. She couldn't clearly make his face out in the dim light of the moon. But his eyes were shut, and she was certain he was still unconscious. Sixteen years later, here at the edge of death, he was calling after her. Her heart ached not to be able to communicate with him, to let him know she was here for him. He exhaled another whimper.

"Lily...forgive me ...please…"

If her heart was not already bleeding, then it tore apart. She fought back the sobs that were crawling in her chest. She had to let him know… She rubbed her face, sweeping the tears away and swallowed hard. Her throat was so tight, she could just choke. She cradled his head in her hands and finally managed to croak.

"Severus, I forgive you…for everything…I already have a long time ago by now…"

She didn't know if her words had reached him. He had no reaction. He seemed to be far, so far away. His breathing sounded shallow and ragged. His life was hardly a smouldering ember, glinting at the verge of passing out.

Her fingers trailed gently along his face, and she bent slowly to rest her forehead against him. Tears flowed again, dripping down to his shirt.

…_Please stay with me… _

She focused hard, as though she could send him strength with pure will or maybe unconscious magic. She didn't know how long she stayed so, but after some time, she noticed his breathing was returning to normal. It seemed he had overcome this attack. Her anxiety drained a little; she sat up and looked at him.

He was so wet, his shirt stuck to his skin. The sheets were wet, too. She grabbed a towel at the foot of the bed and reached out to swab the sweat from his face. Pulling out her wand, she cast a drying charm on him and on the sheets, then arranged him back in the bed the best she could. Then she settled back on the chair at his bedside, waiting for dawn.

When Madam Pomfrey came back at height of the morning, she smiled at the sight of them. They were both sleeping quietly. Lily lay half on the chair, half on the bed. Her head rested on her folded arm against his shoulder, and her other hand was gripping his hand that lay at his side. The healer tiptoed back to her office.

Lily awoke to the warm feeling of the sun shining on her face. She blinked and glanced at Severus. There was no change at all in his state. She stood up and went to Madam Pomfrey's office to tell her about his attack.

"Yes," answered the Healer who was filling up vials with the greenish content of cauldron. She didn't look surprised, but rather embarrassed. "It happens sometimes; I should have told you it could. I…well, I forgot. I'm sorry. I'm a little bit rushed on my feet lately…" she sighed meaningfully, and then explained, "His body has to get rid of the poison, and it's a bit like a weaning. There can be withdrawal symptoms. It's rather a good sign. That means he's fighting." She smiled encouragingly at Lily and put a hand on her arm, patting her slightly. "Tomorrow…if he holds so until tomorrow, he will be fine…and you," she paused and gave her a concerned look, "…well...you should get some rest."

"No," replied Lily firmly. "I want to be here …with him." She cast such a glance at the woman that she just nodded. "You decide… my dear," said Madam Pomfrey and turned back to finish her task.

The day unfolded very slowly. The sky darkened and started pouring heavy drops that trickled down the windows. Lily was watching out for any tiny improvement with his health. But he still lay deeply unconscious, most of the time dead-still, but sometimes wincing with pain and stirring like he was having a particularly vivid and awful nightmare. She would then quickly reach out and carefully give him five drops from each of the three vials from the tray atop the bedside. In the meantime she just stayed by him, holding his hand. Even though he gave no response, she was convinced he could feel her presence some way, and that might poke the sparkle of strength he needed to cling back to life. She didn't help take care of the other injured anymore, but no one seemed annoyed, nor had they asked her why, even not Madam Pomfrey, who was really benevolent and protective of her.

Xx

Harry slept till noon. He felt still so drained that he stayed in the Gryffindor common room and asked Kreacher for some food. He deserved to rest a few days …and besides, he did not want to take the risk of stumbling upon Rita Skeeter or her likes, who he supposed were lying in wait somewhere in the castle. They were likely to stomp on him for interviews, and he was not in the mood…

Ron came from the boys' dormitory even later and picked some bread and cheese from Harry's plate. Hermione came back from the Great Hall and propped herself against the wall.

"Voldemort's body has been retrieved by the Ministry. They said he would probably be buried in the Riddles' grave without any ritual"

She sighed, walked in. and dropped herself on the couch beside Ron.

"Ron, your parents went home to fetch a few clothes… Ginny is with George and Percy in the dungeons."

The boys nodded. Hermione glanced up at the window. It was raining cats and dogs, but it felt good. It was as if the sky shared their grief.

"And, hmm… Harry?"

Harry raised his head toward her.

"Professor McGonagall wants you to come at her office. She's waiting for you actually."

He gave her a quizzical, frowning look. He really did not feel like attending a meeting today.

She shrugged her shoulders, but then wrinkled her nose and hinted, "Well, I presume she needs you to testify."

Harry still looked at her rather stupidly. She tilted her head sideways, and her brows arched up

"You know, Harry …about professor Snape… I saw her arguing with people from the Ministry," she explained.

Harry had a stroke of guilt, realizing he didn't even know if Professor Snape had survived his wounds. As if she had read his mind, Hermione answered him loudly, but more as she were speaking for herself.

"He lives... but…his life is hanging by a thread...He has not even come out of a coma…" she muttered.

Harry seemed to be lost in thoughts for a moment. "Well, I should go then." He stood slowly with a heavy sigh and walked toward the portrait hole. "See you later."

"See you, Harry," replied Hermione, "and good luck."

"See you later," muttered Ron, his mouth full of chocolate cake.

Xx

When the evening came, only ten people lay in beds in the hospital wing under the care of Madam Pomfrey. All the others had been released; even Firenze had returned to the Forbidden Forest. Lily was the only visitor left. Severus was quiet. Without letting go of his hand, she took the opportunity to dig about in her suitcase with her free hand, picking up a book from it. It was a children's stories book: _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._ She opened it gingerly and looked at the inside cover. Her fingers slowly traced around the edge of the page as she read the small spiderlike handwritten dedication.

_For Lily… my best friend, always,_

_Severus_

She let her mind drift away to sweet memories of their youth for a while. This had been his birthday gift for her tenth, his own book actually, even his mother's. With a sigh, she put the book back in the suitcase and took his hand back in both of hers. The strange feeling in her core had grown to something warm and firm. She nurtured the hope; he could feel it through her touch. She bent down and pressed her lips against his long, thin fingers, letting them linger there a little.

* * *

Irisclaymore painted a wonderful illustration of this chapter for me here (remove spaces) :

http:// irisclaymore . deviantart .com/art/KIRIBAN-can-t-lose-you-again-142670489


	6. Chapter 6

I'm sorry it took longer for this chapter… I was sick with heavy fever and nasty cough for several days…actually I'm still not one hundred percent…and then my kids caught it, too….

I didn't take time to reply to each of your reviews personally, but I want to express to you that they did mean a lot to me and provide encouraging support!! So thanks for all the reviews!! (and please continue!!)

Betaed by Sindie: .net/u/46567/Sindie

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Chapter 6

On this third morning after the battle, the sun was shining, as a forecast for a beautiful early summer day. After a quick breakfast, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione went outside, in need of fresh air.

The park was pretty quiet. Reconstructing the castle would only begin after the funerals. In a few days those who had paid with their lives would be honoured and buried all around Dumbledore's grave.

_This mixture of grief and joy is so unsettling_, thought Harry, watching Neville sitting under a tree, surrounded by a group of fans. He was obviously telling of his attack on Nagini, miming the head swirling up in the air. Squeezing Ginny's hand in his, Harry looked at her and smiled. Ron had sneaked a protective arm around Hermione's waist, and they were softly whispering things only they could hear. The four friends strolled peacefully farther over the grounds, trying to enjoy just being alive.

_Would __George keep running the shop?_ Harry wondered. Fred would have wanted it for sure…but it was still so hard to think about the future… Yesterday on the way to Professor McGonagall's office, he had met Mrs. Tonks with little Teddy Lupin, his godson, an orphan. His heart twitched painfully. While taking him in his arms, Harry had made himself the promise he would watch over him and make sure he would grow up supported by benevolent and loving persons.

They had paced aimlessly, but their wandering had led them to the Whomping Willow. Harry's thoughts flicked to the Shrieking Shack and to what had happened there.

Hermione turned to Harry, who was staring at the tree. Pulling away from Ron, she drew closer and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry…you should not feel guilty about this…he...Professor Snape did everything he could to make you hate him…and besides, ALL of us were wrong… after Dumbledore's death at least."

"I know...but…Dumbledore had told me he trusted him. I didn't event bother to try figure out why. Why he was so sure...I was too much glued on my first impression. I let old prejudices blind me. It was so much easier to hate him…He was a perfect scapegoat. I behaved like my father did toward him; no wonder he couldn't see the difference between us. And… I called him a coward that night!!"

"You didn't know, Harry..." Hermione offered.

"What he did was so brave… I should have known Dumbledore was pleading for his death, not for his life…To kill the only man who trusted him… to delude Voldemort face to face… so brave…oh, yes, he could be mad at me…" he said, his voice filled with remorse.

"But he had been such a bastard to you, remember?" pleaded Ron

"Yes…but he has also been a nasty to you…to Hermione...and to Neville... Actually, he was mean to every student except maybe a few Slytherins like Malfoy…but …Malfoy was a part of the plan, too..." Harry uttered thoughtfully.

"By the way, Hermione, didn't you pick up his wand?" he blurted.

"No...It must be still there...I forgot …that night…"

"Well …thanks to you, he lives," he cut in. "Were it for me…I would have let him bleed to death in the shack," he said in a contrite tone.

Silence felt between them. But Ron didn't let it last.

"Hmm…shall we go?" He gestured toward the tree.

But Harry seemed not to be finished.

"I've never told you…but in fifth year…during one of the Occlumency lessons, Malfoy interrupted us and he had to go. I was left alone in his office, and I…I plunged into his memories".

"You did _what_?" said Hermione, grimacing.

"He used to hide a few of his private memories in the Pensive, memories he didn't want me to see if I were to get into his mind by accident...as it could have happened if I had countered his spell..."

"So you looked at them?!" exclaimed Hermione, looking outright reproving this time.

"Yes, I did!" Harry replied, a bit infuriated at Hermione's response.

"What did you see, then, Harry?" asked Ginny.

"So...that day…I saw this memory...the one where my father and Sirius bullied him and Lily came to his rescue…He caught me in it…He was- he was so furious…He looked completely mad- He scared me…He threw me out...and I ran out of his office, and that was the end of the Occlumency lessons…"

Hermione's eyes were shooting daggers now. "But, Harry…you lied to us! Did you apologize, then? Did he refuse to listen to you?"

"NO," he cut her off abruptly. "No. I didn't. I knew I would never have been able to Occlude my mind, even with a hundred more lessons! And yes... I know …the vision I had …led us to the Ministry and…and Sirius got killed…That was not really _Snape's fault,_ despite his hatred for Sirius…I'm sure Snape was happy for Sirius's death, but he didn't make it happen," he sighed and pursued, "But anyway, at that time I thought it was just the prank, the humiliation...but it was so much more...If you had seen it, Hermione, you might have guessed about his love for Lily." But there were no regrets in his tone, only a sort of sad acceptance.

"Yes, girls have a huge understanding for what gives on emotional matters…Remember the teaspoon?" said Ron, trying to cheer up and to put an end to this part of the discussion. He wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Anyway…shall we go in there, then?"

Harry took a deep breath and pulled his wand out to send a twig to prod the trunk's base.

"Yes, I owe him that, at least"

"We're coming with you, anyway," said Hermione.

As the tree became still, they wiggled into the passage.

Xxx

Severus had no more fever this morning. His breathing was steady and quiet. Lily had been uptight with anguish the whole night, for he had been delirious again, and she had feared another attack. But Madam Pomfrey had been right. She could tell his state had improved. His lids fluttered a little, and his hand startled slightly to her touch a few minutes ago. Lily felt relieved. He was no longer in a coma, only in a deep sleep.

Her heart radiated with comforting gratitude. She actually ached for him to wake up. He shifted a little, and she squirmed in the chair. And what if he was angry at her? He was entitled to; she had lied to him…What if he just dismissed her? He was unconscious, after all, when he had called out to her. She felt clearly restless now. She realized she cared very much, much more she was ever supposed to, and she only began to really understand what his life had really been like for all these years. That last thought twitched painfully in her heart. She wanted badly to know, and maybe if she could…well…

"Hello, dear..." Madam Pomfrey said cheerfully. "You see he's better. He'll survive… I told you …He'll be all right now…"

"Tell me, Madam Pomfrey, do you think he'll wake up today?" Lily asked, looking up at the Healer.

"Mm…yes, it's very likely to happen," she answered with a smile.

Lily looked down at Severus, brushing her hair away nervously. But if the Healer noticed Lily was uneasy, she didn't let her know. She simply laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm going to make a fresh bandage for him… I think it's better you get out…Well…it looks really ugly; it could be disturbing for you..."

"But I can deal with blood. It's just…I- I was still under shock then, from having thought him dead, and...I will be fine this time," protested Lily.

"Maybe, but...I don't want to take the risk. Besides I- I prefer to do this alone. I'm sorry, my dear, but...I would really appreciate it if you would leave now..." Madam Pomfrey's tone was as soft as usual, but left her no alternative.

Lily looked up at her again. There was something in her eyes that told her she understood how difficult it was for her to leave now, but also that she was very determined to make her leave. Letting her gaze drift to the window, she sighed. A bit of fresh air would do her good after all; besides, she must have looked awful…Maybe she should arrange and compose herself a little before showing up to Severus; that could do no harm…

"How long do you need?" she asked, resigned to yield to the injunction.

"Give me two hours" replied Pomfrey plainly.

"So long?" Lily exclaimed, turning back to her with wide eyes. The Healer had already begun to prepare supplies on the bedside table. She was dropping small amounts of different potions over a cloth.

"Yes, I want to perform a complete check up on him," she replied, glancing briefly up from her task.

"Oh…do you think he could bear side effects or...?" enquired Lily.

"No, no, but I just want to be sure...It's the normal procedure…" She put the lids back on the vials and rolled up her sleeves. Putting her hands on her hips, she turned back, obviously waiting for Lily to leave.

"Oh…well, then…" Lily stood up slowly and took a few heavy steps toward the end of the bed, watching Severus, who has just stirred again.

Maybe she should take the opportunity to search for Harry, then…She shivered… Some of her joy and enthusiasm at the prospect of meeting her son again seemed to have faded, shaded by a slowly welling up of anxiety. But she did not want to dwell on unpleasant feelings and fought it quickly back, focusing on hope.

"Whenever you come back, please come to my office first…and don't forget, it's really important."

Lily nodded that she would do so. She glanced one more time at Severus and shivered again. Her feet refused to move farther from the spot. She breathed in deeply, gathered all the will she could manage, and turned on her heels, crossing the ward without looking back.

Heading toward the hall, the sound of her steps echoed in her memories…

_Her mother clopping out of the kitchen dragging a furious screaming Petunia along._

"_Why do__esn't he go to his mother? Hmm?? Has he no one or what?!"_

_Severus sitting pale, his bloody arm stretched out on the table besides the white emergency box._

"_Don't move, Sev! I know it hurts, but I can't disinfect it properly if you move…"_

"_You don't have to use this Muggle potion, you know, Lily…You could heal me with your magic..."_

"_Magic can heal?"_

"_Of course it can!"_

"_But we don't have our wands yet…"_

"_I'm sure you can without...You have loads of magic…"_

"_How does it work?"_

"_You have to touch me and to… strongly focus …focus on a feeling of empathy and care for …well…for the person you wish to heal…"_

"_Oh… it will be easy, then…but it's a pretty bad cut that you have here; where did you get it?"_

"_Never mind…it's not so bad, anyway…"_

"_But it hurts, doesn't it?"_

"_Yes…__ somewhat...so, will you heal me or not?"_

"_Of course__! Give me your hand, then!"_


	7. Chapter 7

Betaed by Sindie: .net/u/46567/Sindie

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Chapter 7

Severus Snape was now fully awake, but he didn't dare move or open his eyes. He had the childish feeling he could prolong his dream a little if he stayed quiet, Lily sitting at his side, holding his hand and whispering comforting words. Indeed, that was a sweet dream…

Footsteps and loud voices brought him back to the rough reality. His brains had recovered their quick thinking ability and his mind was racing. He had been treated. What did that mean? Did the trio do something for him after he lost consciousness? Or did Lucius check after him once the Dark Lord was gone? However, he doubted anyone would have noticed he was missing in the confusion of the battle.

Had the plan worked? Had the Dark Lord been defeated? ... It seemed foolish to get any hopes high but...what then? Mission accomplished- the end- bye-bye? Well…it would certainly be not so pleasant …after all, openly he was a Death Eater, a… murderer. He would probably have to choose between fleeing or face a trial… But no one would stand for him this time. No more Dumbledore to spare him Azkaban.

_Dumbledore… damned Dumbledore…may you rest in peace…_

Potter might have testified on his behalf if he had looked at his memories and if he ever were still alive...but, well, he was most certainly dead by now, whatever the denouement...either a willing lamb sacrificed to the greater goods' slaughter or a victim of the Dark Lord's fury. Severus had really thought he would die there in the Shrieking Shack. It seemed nonsense he still lived if Lily's son was dead…. But there had been no other way for the boy this time... At least _he_ was reunited with his mother…with Lily…

The very last time he had seen her...It had been in her garden at Godric's Hollow...a stolen glimpse of her rather than a real meeting…

Dumbledore had finally agreed to tell him where they were hiding. Severus had set forth; he would be able to help protect them better if he knew, so he could understand and warn them immediately if he overheard the Dark Lord slip a word about their location. To his surprise, the old wizard had agreed…so there he was.

From time to time he had already come. He had found a nice spot behind an old stone wall, near a thick tree, just across their garden. He could see without being seen. But so far he had never got the chance to catch sight of her, until this day…

She had gone out alone in the garden and had sat on the bench in front of the house. He had even forgotten to breathe for several seconds because of simply watching her…craving to leap to his feet and run to her… to tell her the truth…She was entitled to know to whom she owed this miserable hiding life…and beg for her forgiveness...

When she had begun to hum the beautiful song from James Taylor's "You've Got a Friend"… pain had torn his insides, and his eyes had filled with tears…

When you're down and troubled  
And you need a helping hand,  
And nothing, whoa, nothing is going right,  
Close your eyes and think of me  
And soon I will be there  
To brighten up even your darkest nights.

You just call out my name,  
And you know where ever I am,  
I'll come running, oh, yeah, baby,  
To see you again.

_Oh, God, Lily_…He was truly considering showing up to her then, despite the simplest rule of safety (if ever the Dark Lord would learn what he had done, he would certainly kill or torture him), when Potter had joined her.

"Hey, Lily….hmm, Harry's hungry…Shall I give him the mashed carrots you've prepared?"

"I'm coming, James...I'm coming…" she had replied in a weary voice. Standing up, she had glanced just once toward his spot, and he could have seen the glitter of the green of her eyes for the briefest moment.

_I'm sorry, Lily, I'm so sorry…_

"I was getting cold, anyway..." she had added, following her husband inside.

This chance never turned up again. Three days later she was dead.

He let his thoughts stray with her memories for a while until a question struck him. And what was the next step if Tom Riddle had won? What now if the scheme Dumbledore had so carefully elaborated had failed? Potter dead, no more "Chosen One"… Hmm… Maybe it would be up to him then now to take over with a new plan. But he felt so tired…He had thought he would rest in peace…

But maybe peace or rest were just luxuries he would never be granted? Curiosity nagged stronger and stronger at the back of his mind. He wanted to know. He cracked his eyes open and they dazzled at the bright light. He tried to lift a hand, but this was too much of an effort, so he turned his head to the side instead. The motion awakened a sharp burning pain in his neck, but something else stunned him even more. _Her scent_- It was _her scent_ in the sheets. The venom must have bewitched his mind and ensnared his senses. What else could explain this?

_Oh, Lily…sometimes I wish I… No...You've been the light in my life, always…_

Through his blinking eyes, he caught the sight of a small crumpled figure in the bed next to his. Rows of beds? Hospital wing - Hogwarts. Hogwarts?!

Might Potter have cleared his name, then? Or was this the jail's ward for injured? His gaze surveyed the room, adapting to the light. Not so many people lying in beds, indeed.

There had been so many casualties, though; he had seen them in the park: small piles of rags scattered everywhere, illuminated by sporadic spells' flashes. He let his aching eyes shut while his mind plunged in the darkness of this night.

He was lurking in the shadows then, watching, if maybe he could save a few of them even if not openly fighting. Maybe he would get the chance to find Potter, too…Potter…find Potter…A group of three seemly over-numbered and separated from other defenders had caught his attention. Suddenly, one of them had leapt toward their assailants, fiercely casting spells all around.

"Arthur! Go back to the others. I'm covering you!" the figure had shouted.

Lupin. The fool. Within a second he had let himself become fully encircled. He was going to get himself killed. With a nimbly wrist's move, Severus had aimed his wand. A Death Eater had collapsed.

"Severus…"

Severus had known immediately what this interruption meant for Lupin. He had seen death too many times not to recognize it when it came. He had turned to face the stumbling and ragged man beside him.

"Lucius?"

"Our master sent me to fetch you. He's in the Shrieking Shack. He requires a – a service from you." Lucius sounded completely far beyond his bounds already, overwhelmed. In a whimpering voice, he had begged, "Have you seen my son, Severus? Have you seen him?"

"No."

Out of the corner of his eye, Severus had caught the sight of Lupin's figure being blasted off his feet in a flash of green lightning and slumping back on the ground several meters away. An agonizing female voice yelling, "Remus!!!!" resounded bitterly in his ears as he had walked away to his fate…

He wondered how many others were dead, how many students…

A shadow bent over him. His eyes shot open.

"Ah, Headmaster!" said Madam Pomfrey's voice joyfully. "You're awake! Please don't move. Your wounds are still raw, and you've lost so much blood…It's a miracle you live."

He sneered inside: _A miracle? What a bad joke._

Nevertheless, the Healer seemed truly happy to see him alive. It puzzled him. She held out a vial and poured it in his mouth without warning. He swallowed, a tad irritated.

"Madam Pomfrey, I …need… to know…" His voice sounded horribly hoarse. "Potter? … The Dark Lord?"

He winced and closed his eyes to recover from the effort of speaking. He felt so weak, so drained.

"Oh, the boy survived once more and defeated _Voldemort." _She had hesitated at the name, but had uttered it anyway. "Voldemort," she repeated, "is really dead this time, dead as a doornail, indeed. Harry Potter saved us."

_Oh, that's it, then. It worked!? It worked, Dumbledore...unbelievable…_

He knew he should feel glad or at least relieved, but he could not feel either, as amazed as he was.

_And the boy? Hmm...he was not famous enough then...Now he was the savior…Well…well… he did it and survived. What a knack he had!? Had Dumbledore foreseen that, too?_

A sort of small feeling of fulfilment began to creep upon him, almost against his own will. Lily's son lived…and would be safe now. Nevertheless, he did not want to wallow openly in victory as Madam Pomfrey seemed to do.

"And how…. did that happen?" he croaked, opening his eyes again.

_Something to do with luck or Expelliarmus, no doubt._

"Actually, we all thought Harry was dead for a while. Hagrid brought him back out of the Forbidden Forest as Voldemort and his followers entered Hogwarts."

She sat on the chair beside his bed and seemed to gather her thoughts for an instant.

"But it was a trick," she pursued, thrilled by the memory of it "Neville beheaded the snake, and people jumbled up in chaos into the Great Hall. It was overcrowded with people fighting. Voldemort went wild with fury, and all of a sudden, Harry stood in the middle of the room and defied him. They had a sort of a talk. Harry explained about the Elder Wand and… about you."

_About me?!_

She glanced at him, but he did not express anything at all and waited for the rest.

"That Dumbledore had asked you for his death…that it was a plan…that-that you always were on our side because of your love for Harry's mother." She paused briefly, but didn't look up at him this time.

He did appreciate that, for a hot flush rose to his head, making him feel dizzy and his cheeks burning.

_Damn! _ _I'm so sapless I could not even hide my emotions as usual._

Potter had spread out his personal life in front of everyone. Obviously the Potters excelled at the art of humiliating him and seemed to take delight in it. Bitterness and anger-that was what he felt now. After all he had done…surviving just to be mortified. But in the very depths of his heart, even if he had not wanted to admit it, some soothing satisfaction sprang up, too…He might not be an evil betrayer anymore…

"Voldemort cursed Avada Kedavra, but Harry countered him with Expelliarmus, and Voldemort was killed by his own spell." She rested her head in her hand thoughtfully and sighed.

"Anyway, it's over now…"

"Which day… is it?"

His question seemed to remind her she was speaking to someone and not to herself.

"You stayed in a coma two days. It was Friday night and today's Monday." She looked up at him. Her eyes widened.

"Headmaster? Are you all right?"

But he didn't bother answer the question. She stared at him for a while, then nodded several times in understanding. "Is what Harry said about you what's troubling you so much?" He didn't say anything, but squirmed a little and carefully turned his head back straight.

"Most people here are just in awe at what you've done. How you tricked Voldemort face to face for years, risking your life. You're… a kind of a _hero_ now."

He sneered. "A Pathetic hero…indeed…" Looking at the ceiling, he mumbled, "I've done what Dumbledore required… from me, nothing more… I did it because…. I was the only one who could do…the job," he finally spat, out of breath.

She gave him an indignant and blaming look, but didn't reply. She got to her feet and was about to bent over the small figure in the bed next to his when he asked abruptly, "Who's dead?"

She slowly turned back to him and sat on the edge of the bed behind her. Gathering her hands in her lap, she emitted a strangled sob. Her voice wobbled as she explained.

"Professor Lupin and his young wife both dead, many students, too - twenty, I reckon… Colin Creevey, not even of age…" Her voice broke. She swallowed and pursued, "Fred Weasley…" Her voice broke again.

He left her several seconds to compose herself. A too-well-known feeling of waste and emptiness he even not tried fighting had risen in his chest. He knew he had done all in his powers to protect the students, but welling up, the feeling enlightened the irony of his survival in an unseemly manner, as if to mock him.

He rolled partially to his side, just enough to be able to look at her without moving his neck again. She was dabbing her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief.

"What about…the teachers?" he said a little softer.

"Five dead… not even including Professor Lupin." She sniffled.

_Indeed, Lupin was no longer teaching in this school._

"The Malfoys?" he enquired with a tad of a strained voice.

"Safe, all three of them, Headmaster."

He sighed. At least a family was left unbroken. He settled his head in the pillows as comfortably as he could and closed his eyes again. The pale face of Narcissa Malfoy drenched with tears, begging him to protect his son rose up into his mind…along with Dumbledore's voice pleading for his death: "_Severus...please…"_

In an ultimate effort, he pushed these remembrances away and focused on the picture of Lily smiling and waving at him.

_Voldemort is dead…Lily… Your son is safe …_

Soon he drifted into half-slumber again. All those overwhelming feelings had worn him down. He dreamt of her at his side again.


	8. Chapter 8

So much of Lily and Severus to come!! Please don't worry…

I hope you'll enjoy the little cliffie ;-) I'll do my utmost to publish the next chapter before I leave for three weeks holidays…

Betaed by Sindie: .net/u/46567/Sindie

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Chapter 8

"Ginny, you don't need to come with us, you know..." Harry had stopped in the entrance of the passage, hands clutched on either side of the huge roots, blocking the way. His heart pounded a little harder than it normally should, as if the tunnel exuded the fear and sorrow he had felt that night.

"Harry! Stop!" There was a short, tense silence. "Please, Harry..." she went on softer, mastering her own emotions." Stop protecting me like this… The battle is over…"

Oh, yes, it was over. But how long would the remembrances infuse his sleep with shadows, or downright engender horror-like vivid nightmares like he had experienced prior in the middle of the night? Hundreds of Inferius crawling, climbing up in his bed, reaching out icy, sweaty hands, grabbing his limbs, pulling him down to a pile of dead bodies, above them Lupin, Tonks, and Fred. If only he had known, if he had surrendered to Voldemort a little bit earlier, would some of them be still living?

"Harry? Are you all right?"

Harry breathed deeply in, pushing these thoughts out of his mind, and wheeled round. His right hand found a new grip on the other side of the passage's frame.

"Yes… it's over… Sorry, Ginny," he mumbled, smiling mirthlessly.

"Come on, let's do this together."

She laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed him gently forward. All the four of them dove farther into the tunnel, brandishing their wands for light.

Harry led the march as fast as he could in his half-bent posture because of the low ceiling. Better to be done with this; no need to make it last. Silence fell between them for a minute or two, except for the echoing popping of their footsteps. Then Ron's voice rang out in the cramped corridor, practically startling them out of their skin, as if they had heard Voldemort's voice reverberating from the walls for the briefest moment.

"Honestly…one must be bloody screwy to let everybody hate you like _he_ did, act for good only in shadows and completely alone."

"Well, this is what one calls absolute selflessness..." said Hermione, sighing away the surge of adrenaline.

Ron snorted. "You truly think he never once thought of finding a way to get credit for his deeds?"

"Come on, Ron," Hermione replied, sounding a tad irritated. "He was a _spy_. Do you believe _he_ could just come and say, 'Hello, it's me. You know I'm on your side; you can trust me…but shh, shut your mouth…Nobody must know.' He risked his life, for Merlin's sake! Voldemort would have read anyone's mind easily except his or Dumbledore's."

"For sure… above all mine!" cut in Harry.

"Uh, you make a point!" Ron chortled.

Silence fell. For a short moment the tunnel resounded only with the sound of their footsteps again, then Hermione pursued.

"Besides…do you really think he's the kind of man to claim he's faithful because of his undying love for a woman? A woman he lost to another man. ….especially _the man_ who bullied him all his years at Hogwarts?"

She stopped walking abruptly, and Ron practically lost his balance to avoid collision.

"... and that...that _he_ by an extraordinary misfortune was the one who set Voldemort on their tracks…"

Ahead, Harry and Ginny stopped, too, and turned around. Hermione's face was strangely glimmering with the white lights of their wands.

"And then ...because of that remorse, he changed sides, and after their death, devoted his life to protect _their_ son… Who would want to shout such a tragedy from the rooftops?"

She breathed quickly in and out and went on.

"And if- if he hates Harry so much- well, all things considered – Harry is the living proof of his failure with Lily…for her choosing another one…And above all, each time Harry's eyes meet his, he sees Lily's eyes, reminding him of his loss and …and reminding him of how much his wrong choices have cost him...and this…- these beloved eyes, he sees them grafted on the face and body of a man he loathed… That's enough a big deal to explain his behaviour toward Harry, don't you think?"

A silence ensued. Hermione's speech had left them at loss for words. She was breathless herself.

"Well…now that you've explained…" Ron grumbled, "it's pretty clear."

"We are all deeply moved by his story, Hermione," Ginny declared softly, patting her arm. Harry said nothing, turned back and set off, an unpleasant twinge twisting the pit of his stomach. They followed.

"At any rate…everybody's in the know, no more secrets…" Ron remarked after a moment. "He may even have his own little _celebrity,_ too.." he teased, trying to imitate his former teacher's sarcastic tone.

"He didn't think he would survive," Harry said gravely. He walked on a few yards, then stopped. His pulse quickened a little. They had reached the shack.

"Harry, be careful! Death Eaters could hide in there," Hermione exhorted in a harsh but hushed voice.

"Nox."

They were not plunged in absolute darkness as expected, for the exit was free of the crate that usually obstructed the way. Harry crouched down cautiously and his friends behind him, too. They listened, straining their ears for any suspicious sound. A minute or two elapsed. It was still, except for a few spontaneous wooden squeaks and creaks induced by the shack itself. Deciding they had waited long enough, Harry scrambled to his feet, wiped his hands on his trousers, and seized his wand tightly. He peered inside. Rays of light infiltrating through the single, unblocked but dirty window provided an acceptable light.

"The way's clear," he whispered.

He stepped in, his wand pointed out, at the ready. Nothing happened. He stepped farther in. His friends followed. It was weird to be there again, Harry thought; so many things had changed in the meanwhile. For a fleeting moment, he saw the silvery cage floating in mid-air, Nagini swirling inside, and Snape's deadly-white face looking blankly at him. Hermione shivered and shifted closer to Ron. He was certainly not the only one haunted with the recollections of that night.

"Let's find it …off we go," Harry urged, yanking them all out of their day-nightmare.

He started peering down, checking the cracks of the old, wooden dusty floor. Ron did the same in the opposite corner of the room. Hermione and Ginny crouched down to scrutinize below the old, wrecked pieces of furniture. Only a minute later, Ron's words relieved them from the grim prospect of a long and fastidious seeking in this creepy place.

"Here it is!"

He was brandishing the wand he had just picked up on the floor, just nearby the dark red dried puddle.

"We're done. We can leave."

He initiated a move to put his find in his back-pocket, but froze in the middle of it "Uhh..." The ebony stick was blotched with blood.

"Wait…" Hermione tapped her wand lightly on Snape's. "Terego."

"Thanks." Tucking it finally in his jeans, Ron headed to the passage, the three others treading upon his heels. The way back was quiet and quick. A blazing sunlight welcomed them outside, melting away a part of the darkness hanging over their spirits.

"A good thing's done, Harry," offered Ginny, dusting her clothes.

"Yes..." he said, watching her.

He reached out for her hand, glancing back one last time at the Whomping Willow.

"Let's move from here now…"

She looked up at him and smiled lightly. He missed her wide and shining smile. She was so stunned with grief.

"Let's go to the lake…" proposed Hermione.

"Okay." Harry felt like the tranquil waters might be soothing.

A quarter of an hour later, on the slope down to the shore, they sighted Luna Lovegood, wandering alone, looking up at some bushes, as if searching for something.

"Hello there!" greeted Harry

"Oh, hello!" said Luna, righting herself from her crouching position, sweeping her long pale hair out of her face. She seemed to be wearing an unusually common outfit today until she turned and he saw her huge multi-colored pendant.

"Looking for something Luna?" Harry asked.

"I think I saw something…"

"Why don't you come with us?" he offered.

"Okay."

She joined them, and they made their way to a nice place to sit near the shore. The mild shade of a big willow tree offered them a peaceful haven. Ron sprawled lazily down in the grass, resting on his elbows. Hermione hunkered down, cuddling her legs to her chest with crossed arms, and nestled her chin between her knees. Harry flopped at the tree's foot, propping his back against at the large trunk and spread his legs. Ginny settled down, pressed against him, and Luna sat cross-legged at the edge of the water line.

They kept quiet a long time, watching the landscape, engrossed in strayed thoughts, or staring at the lake, on the lookout for the tentacles of the giant squid, each of them trying to move on to the new life that would begin….

A horde of birds flew over them, moving swiftly away just above the surface of the water. Hermione lifted her head up. Her gaze followed the animals until they disappeared in the distance.

"I think I'd like…flying… I mean, without a broom…" she specified as Harry had opened his mouth. He closed it again. "Do you think Professor Snape might accept to teach it?" she went on, feigning not to notice Ron's grimace. "I mean if her recovers, of course…"

"Oh, yes, he will!" said Luna, smiling. "I met Madam Pomfrey on my way here, and she assured me that he will. He is much better; he even woke up from the coma and enquired about the outcome of the battle!"

"I'm so glad to hear it," cheered Hermione, releasing her hug on her legs.

"Yes, that's good news!" Harry added, smiling at Ginny. She nodded and smiled back weakly. Indeed, he truly felt happy at the news. Besides, it somewhat alleviated the guilty feeling that weighed on him. He stretched an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

"So, then…how do you think it would be…learning to fly?" asked Hermione

"Hmm…" began Harry, but Ron sat up, downright straight, his face contorted in disgust and horror. "But, Hermione, you don't really mean it, do you? This…this is Dark Magic!"

"How can you be so sure?"

"You know why! Voldemort did it, too!"

"Yes, but he did not exclusively practice Dark Magic... Maybe-maybe it's not... I'll check on this, of course," said Hermione.

Ron shrugged his shoulders, attesting that he was dropping the subject, and turned toward Harry, pulling Snape's wand out.

"Do you realise," he jeered as Harry seized the stick, "what you escaped from? _He_ could be you father."

"Ronald!" Hermione protested with an expression of indignant disapproval. "Don't make a joke of it; there's nothing funny..."

"Yes, Ron… I'm not in the mood; please stop that," Harry said.

Watching the wand in his opened palm, he wondered what would have happened if Snape had been left the opportunity to speak to him before the battle, if McGonagall and the other teachers haven't attacked him and chased him out of the school.

"After all…it might not have been so horrible, Harry," Luna asserted. "He can't be not such a bad man…amazing how he tricked us all..." she paused thoughtfully, cocking her head to the side. "By the way now, I'm sure he did his best to protect the students from the Carrows all during this last school year."

Harry trailed a finger along the ebony stick's length, as if deliberating something, and finally stowed it in his pocket.

"You're right," Ginny supported. "After all, when we tried to steal Gryffindor's Sword, he sent us in detention with Hagrid... Everybody knows nothing's bad being with Hagrid."

"I remember this terrified first year boy Amycus Carrow was dragging along in a corridor shortly before Christmas' holidays," Luna went on, coiling a strand of her hair around her finger. "Snape asked what the boy had done and insisted to punish the boy himself. He looked so frightening, even the Carrows cowed back. Poor boy! I met him the next day and enquired after him. Although still under shock and scared to the bones, he was quite alright; he had only copied down hundreds of potion's ingredients. Snape had saved him from Crucio..." Luna smiled.

"What about our 7th year?" asked Ron, moving on the conversation. "Will we have to do it, do you think? Or maybe after what we've done…we might be exempted..." He was picking up small stones around him and began to throw them one after the other into the lake.

"Yes, we will," replied Hermione. Ron cheered up. "We will have to study one more year, I mean," she corrected, and Ron looked at her with a fresh grimace. "I've asked Professor Flitwick. .Some graduation exams might be organised in early September. But I doubt we can catch up in a few months a full year program. Anyway, we won't be alone in this case. All Muggle-born students have missed the year. Hogwarts will be crowded next September."

Silence fell again. Harry began to tear out some grass furiously, but he looked like he was unaware of what he was doing. Ron's repetitive attempts either to joke about Snape or to swap him out of the talk had made him quite infuriated. Hermione's explanations concerning their future education were certainly of the most importance, but he could not worry about that now. He had first to deal with this…

Luna stood up and drew close to Ginny, sitting beside her. She addressed her as if telling her a secret.

"You know…" she said, "the people we loved never quite leave us… We can speak to them.

Professor Sasha Robert is categorical; you can communicate with the soul of deceased people, especially when you loved the person. I've read his book, quite convincing, I believe him."

Harry glanced up at the two girls.

"You do?" Ginny asked kindly, trying to sound interested.

"Mm."

"Well, I believe you mean they're forever in our hearts. That's what you mean, don't you?"

"No, no, I really mean speaking, real communication. With the help of a Fogelin, it is quite possible," Luna asserted most seriously.

"A Fogelin?" Ginny repressed a nervous laugh, Harry's brows swept up.

"Yes… a small fury animal with big protruding eyes, and thin, long ears… They used to hide in bushes in wetlands… We could try to find one near the lake... if –if you wish to speak with Fred," Luna said softly.

There was a short pause. Ginny swallowed hard and gathered her legs to her breast.

"Was...was it that? You were looking for them earlier?"

"Truly you should not," snapped Ron. "That will not bring him back, anyway." He had gotten to his feet and was now throwing flat stones along the surface of the water, in an attempt to make them ricochet.

A pang of pain clenched Harry's insides; he turned aside to Hermione, getting back to the issue bothering him.

"Hermione... do you think Professor Snape would agree to tell me a little about my mother?"

This question had been floating in his mind since he knew the story, but since Luna had said he was awake…it had become a strong yearning.

After deliberating a few seconds, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and gave him a sorry look "Mm...I don't know, Harry…But it's worth a try…"

Knowing Harry would not be satisfied with this answer, she added, "Certainly it would be difficult and painful for him...but maybe he expects you to ask him, after all –now-now that you know… but if he's willing to tell you…it's another story...well...you may ask, anyway…"

She gave him an encouraging smile, and Harry nodded, muttering, "I'll try… but first I have to thank him, at least."

He resumed pulling up blades of grass. But after only a few nervous tugs, he stood up briskly.

"I'm going to bring him his wand back!" he broke out and set off toward the castle.

Ginny rushed behind him and caught his sleeve. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No…no, I'd prefer not." He smiled a thanks and walked away.

During his course to the hospital wing, Harry tried to choose the words he would tell Snape. But he could not figure any proper formulation.

No wonder…he was so confused, he could not even define how he felt. The astonishment following the revelation had dissipated by now, and some unpleasant feelings kept nagging the back of his mind. Could he just sweep away years of unfair demeanour and bullying, years of reciprocal loathing? Snape truly hated him. He had not pretended, always confusing Harry with him father. Only now, Harry knew why...

Trampling the grounds, ignoring the people waving at him every now and then, Harry was racking his mind and heart further.

Oh, yes, he had loathed this ugly, skinny, greasy git, black dressed, bat-looking figure of a man. He had loathed him so much... as much as Voldemort himself, indeed.

But now? He sighed. Now... His chest was boiling with feelings akin to awe, respect, and gratitude, but also compassion, sadness, and guilt, all this mingled with a hint of a grudge, a hint of ambivalence. Oh, Merlin... This wizard was so ….so mysterious and brilliant, so cunning and brave, so selfless, but sour and nasty… ambivalent, unsettling, so very like the Half-Blood Prince of the Potion's book, after all.

Harry breathed in deeply, sighed, and decided to do his utmost to focus on positive feelings, on thankfulness and admiration. His footsteps were lighter as he strode across the front courtyard.

He had almost reached the imposing oak doors when the sight of a curled up silhouette well away on the right side of the entrance caught his attention. It was highly improbable that he noticed her, but as if guided by an invisible force, his gaze had been irresistibly attracted.

Following his instinct, he drew closer. This figure belonged to a red-haired woman sitting isolated on a remote rock among rubbles, near the high stone walls. She was quite still, her elbows resting on her thighs, the magnificent hair spread over her shoulders glistening with the sunlight. He could not make out her face, for she kept it buried in her hands, but something about her radiated familiarity. He was only a step away when she looked up, fixing on him exactly the same green almond-shaped eyes as the ones staring at him when he faced a mirror.


	9. Chapter 9

Whoa…this was a hard chapter to write…but, well..I put myself alone in this mess!;-)

I hope it will live up to the expectations…

Chapter 9 and 10 are actually two parts of the same chapter. I cut it in two for easier editing.

A big thank you to each and every reviewer!!

A big thank you to my wonderful beta who keeps doing this job although she is now very busy with her new born son.

Betaed by Sindie: .net/u/46567/Sindie

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Chapter 9

At the sight of him, Lily drew a great deep breath and then held it as she were about to dive. For a few seconds, even her heart seemed to forget to beat. She had recognized her son immediately; he had the same build as James and the same messy hair, slightly lifted here and there with the breeze. She found him beautiful. Surprise and joy propelled her to her feet, her hands grasping at the fabric of her dress over her tights, her lungs suddenly releasing the gulp of air, crowing his name with force:

"Harry!"

Her heart was now thudding so hard, her cheeks throbbed. He was so…grown up...a man indeed. Even recent photographs could not have prepared her for this.

Harry had jerked at her cry, and he was now staring at her full in the face, slightly frowning, his eyes wide, his body quite still, arms dropped at his side.

In an attempt to gather her wits, she consciously inhaled and exhaled very slowly a few times and forced her clutched hands to open. Tough a tad skinny and some marks of weariness or bad sleep marring his young features, he looked in rather good health. Her lips parted, but no other sound escaped her clogged throat. From the words she had carefully thought up for years, nothing was left. The tidal wave that had broken upon her had washed them all away. She had completely underestimated the shock of seeing him, she realized somehow curiously, over the whirling flow of her thoughts. Oh, God! This was indeed a little bit too much to deal at the same time.

Was this real after all? She lifted her hands to her face, rubbed them over her doubtful eyes and then slowly down her jowls. Harry blinked, but did not move, nor spoke, watching her intensely. His chest seemed to rise and fall somewhat stronger and quicker. She saw him swallow hard.

"Harry..." she tried in a wobbling, strangled voice; the rest kept caught in her throat. The skin on her nape crawled with pins and needles as she began to fret over ruining the moment. She clasped her hands tight, meshing her fingers, pressing them against her mouth; they were a welcoming cold compared to her burning cheeks.

The missive. That was it. She let out a small sigh of relief. Her gaze steadily fixed on her newly found again child whom she could still not be sated to look at; she fumbled blindly with her pouch and managed somehow to slip a numb hand inside. She began rummaging furiously through the contents with an odd sensation that her fingers were simultaneously hectic like excited tiny animals and heavy to move as if they had been ballasted with lead.

From the first time since their eyes had met, Harry broke contact. He took a few steps, swiftly scratched his head along the hairline at his forehead, tucked his hands in his pockets, and adjusted his stance. He looked back at her eagerly.

"Who are you?!"

At the sound of his voice, her heart jumped with delight. She swallowed hard, fighting the rise of tears. She tried to smile, pleading with him with a meaningful look to wait only a little bit.

_Oh, God, my son, my son…_

"Do you know me?" Harry asked, quirking his eyebrows. Then he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders in incomprehension, a fleeting glint of frustration flashing across his eyes. His chest was now downright heaving.

"Should I know you?" he urged, foaming. He pulled his right hand out of his pocket and wiped his face briskly. There was a short pause; he seemed to hesitate a little. His hand found its way back inside his pocket.

"Are you related to... Lily Potter?" he finally broke out in a husky tone, inflecting with high-pitched accents, betraying overwhelming emotions.

His raw voice had pierced straight through her core. This name...her name...She shivered with a rush of mixed joy and grief, swallowing hard against the bitter tingling at the back of her mouth.

Harry sighed with dismay, his green eyes still stuck to her visage. A sinew fluttered along his jaw.

"But why don't you just tell me who you are?" he insisted impatiently, furrowing his brow deeper. He looked both hopeful and afraid of what she might say.

Lily's fingers had finally clutched on a thick textured paper. She pulled it half out of her pouch, glancing quickly down to check if it were indeed what she was looking for. It was. Her pulse quickened. She took a great deep, shuddering breath, extracted said paper and held it out to her son. Her hand was shaking, but her face was lit with a wide, slowly blossoming smile.

Her gesture seemed to have taken the wind out of Harry's sails, for he suddenly stood quite petrified, save his eyes, which fluttered from the missive to her from behind his round glasses. She simply nodded toward her out-stretched hand. Her heart was pulsing in every single vein of her body. She was utterly dying with stress.

After what seemed an eternity, he gave her a suspicious look, rushed to her, and finally snatched the proffered letter. Checking every two seconds as if he feared she would vanish in thin air, he tore it slowly open, almost cautiously. His fingers fidgeted with the paper inside, clutched on it, and paused. The two pairs of green almond-shaped eyes stared at each other again, the younger one peering at the older.

Lily nodded again. Reluctantly, Harry tugged on the inserted piece of parchment with one swift motion, unfolded it, and began to read.

_Dear Harry,_

He identified Dumbledore's thin, slanting writing and looked up at the woman once more. She nodded once again for him to continue to read.

_If you have been delivered__ this letter, it means that everything or almost everything ran as planned and you defeated Voldemort for good. This also means I can finally reveal you a last piece of information. It concerns you highly, but I HAD to keep it secret.__I hope you won't bear too heavy a grudge against me, Harry. Let me explain._

_This tragic night Voldemort marked you with this scar. He __murdered your father first, then went upstairs after your mother. I found her lying on the floor beside your crib._

Harry felt his eyes water, and his throat constrict. He blinked.

_Still, before I could check after her, something very strange happened. You know how special phoenixes are, do you? Indeed. That night, Fawkes cried upon Lily Potter's body, and she woke up to life._

A sparkle of wild insane hope sprang up deep inside him and shuddered though his whole body, speeding up his heart rate, infusing each and every cell of his being.

_But even phoenixes can't bring people back from death…no...So I assumed she had just been unconscious. However, it made no doubt she had been hexed with the Killing Curse, and she had survived, just like you had._

_Oh, M__erlin. That can't be true._

He glanced up. The red-haired woman was still standing there, slightly trembling, her eyes shining at him. His stomach painfully clenched in a tiny hard ball, and he read on frantically.

_Actually__, I guessed the truth is that your father gave her the same protection she gave you._

_He stood willing__ly in the way of lord Voldemort –without even his wand to defend himself , as it seems from the way I found him- giving his life in order to protect your mum and you._

_Even if I never had any proof to this presumption, I truly believe this is the real explanation why she survived._

_Yet,__ the reason why YOU lived and had inflicted such a severe setback upon Voldemort had to be preserved, for I knew he would come back. Indeed, I was absolutely convinced he would (and I was right, as I guess right most of the time) -and that his obsession would be to hunt you down until the death of one of you._

_So__ I reckoned_ _your mother's survival had to be kept secret (until now); let her sacrifice be complete to keep the protective magic fully effective._

_According__ to this, and in order to spare your mother any temptation of coming back, I compelled her, only a few minutes after she came to her senses, to make an Unbreakable Vow with me. She swore never to reveal her existence until Voldemort had been finished. An old friend of mine was our binder, and I even Obliviated him afterwards. _

_I know this sounds heartless, Harry, but I had to make sure you would be provided any available help to defeat the most dangerous wizard our world ever knew. I am sure your true Gyffindor's heart will understand my point of view, even if it needs some time._

_And at last, let me remind you that your mother had no way to let you know she lived. You certainly conceive she would have died if she had broken the vow…_

_Good luck and enjoy your new__ free life, Harry._

_Yours__, truly ever,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry looked up from the letter and blinked again, several times. A sort of haze had fogged up his brains. The full meaning of this missive was reaching his dizzy mind gradually, like small particles whirling in a drink after a vigorous stirring, sinking slowly down to the bottom of the glass.

Lily lived? She had lived hidden ever since… That was…but… the last straw…He gazed several seconds at the beautiful woman standing in front of him. His heart already knew from the moment their eyes had met. He swallowed hard, his vision blurred with wetness.

"Is that you?" he wailed, still a note of disbelief in his voice. "Mum?!"

Lily nodded, visibly at a loss for words, and after a brief awkward moment, he watched her draw close to him, like in a fuzzy and slow motion picture. As her arms encompassed him, the missive slipped from his hands. It was she.

Lily felt as if her brains had disconnected; her very first thought was downright primitive. He was taller than her, but not much. Nevertheless, it was weird to be the smaller of the two, to be smaller than her child. Lily held Harry tight, and with the physical touch came the realization that this was really happening, and tears began to roll down her cheeks, soaking his sweater.

_Oh__, God, her son...she was holding her son in her arms. _

He, however, seemed extraordinarily calm, even rather stiff in her arms. He certainly needed some more time to realise, she thought, fighting back the insidious fear creeping back behind her neck. After a moment, he began to jolt with breathing spasms against her; it relaxed her a little, and she tried to soothe him, rubbing his back softly.

"I'm here, Harry…Mum-Mum is back …" she comforted, as she was as much speaking for herself as for him.

But then he suddenly struggled out of her embrace and pulled away, breathing hard and fast.

"Harry?" she cried out, staggering on her feet with confusion and brushing her hair out of her face.

He was standing squarely in front of her, his features twisting with pain and anger, his orbs flaring with blame and shock.

"YOU…YOU HAVE…NO IDEA…." he yelled, his dilated nostrils quivering "No IDEA…How-How it feels like …YOU-YOU…" his voice cracked and he glared at her, folding his hands in fits at his sides, yet so hard, his knuckles blanched. His lightning-shaped scar, reminder of the night that had set their lives upside down, was clearly outstanding upon his crimson face.

"I'm here now, Harry," she encouraged mildly, for that was all she could say. She dashed out her tears.

"YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD JUST COME BACK AND …AND…" his voice broke in gasps. Abruptly, he turned away, trampled a few steps, stopped, gave a furious kick in the ground, throwing a small clod of turf into the air, and set off again.

She hurt so much to see him like this, it tore her bowels. Urging to solace his distress, she walked to him and stretched her arms out, in an attempt to pull him in her embrace back again. But he raised his hand between them, pushing her away, and reared back.

"JUST LEAVE ME…LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Lily felt suddenly sick. Deep inside her, something cracked, freeing the way to brooks of woe, streaming out through the breach from a huge sea of sorrow she thought had dried out long ago. She staggered. Fresh tears of old pains gushed out, sliding heavy and hot over the skin of her face until they finally dropped from her chin onto her breast.

_The haze of sorrow__. James dead. Stabs of pain. Harry's screams; his little arms and fists scuffling against her breast, grasping at her hair._

"_Give him to me, Lily, it's time to go."_

_Her arms so tightened on him, unable to make any move. _

"_Give him to me, Lily…"_

'_I-I can't."_

"_Give him to me…"_

_A last soaked and salted kiss on his cheek. The light weight of his little body yanked up from her arms._

"_Please take care of him…"_

_The void __when he was gone... like a huge chasm in the former place of her heart and guts…_

She felt like falling on her knees and just crying, crying and crying…

But she was tough. She had always been. Instead, she closed her eyes and drew strength from within the depths of her being, summoning happy and soothing recollections, a bit like she wanted to cast a Patronus. Sounds, pictures, and the feelings associated with them showed up, huddling one on the other, shifting quickly.

_Mum's and __Dad's sweet smiles, childish mirth at Christmas time,_

_The mild caress of the wind on her face while flying,_

_L__istening to Severus's passionate voice telling her about magic, comfortably embed into fluffy cushions near the fireplace, while snowflakes are whirling against the windowpane…_

_When the first flower blossoms in the garden,_

_The restless surge of the waves, rolling over and over again, clashing and rasping pebbles together, her bare feet running upon hot sand and Severus's laugh -one of the precious moments she had heard it- as he pursued her in the roaring waves…_

_Her heart leaping with joy at the magnificent wizardish appearance of the woman who brought her Hogwarts letter, trying her skills at magic…_

_Severus's reliable and friendly hand fastening her answer to Petunia's letter to the leg of a brown owl as she at last accepted to let it go,_

_A__ horrible black snake slithering out of a dark skull branded onto pale, bluish-veined skin…_

NO! Mastering her pulse under this pang of dread, and with a tremendous effort, she pushed this uninvited vision away and skipped to other images.

_Comfort in James's arms__,_

_Deep, intense joy and fulfillment as Harry was placed in her arms for the first time…_

_T__he strong warmth in her core when she saw Severus alive, _

_R__elief at holding Harry in her arms just moments ago…_

She took a deep breath, and bracing herself, opened her eyes again. Her son had sunk down on the ground a few yards away, his head buried in his hands. She strode to him slowly, stepping over the remains of a gargoyle, a bit unsteady on her feet.

"Harry…" she called mildly, crouching down beside him.

"Harry, please…you read the letter..."

He just shook his head from between his palms. The world whirled around her. She had never imagined he would reject her like this. He was her unique son, she loved him, she would find a way to get to him; she had to. She could not even conceive failing to reconcile with him. She tried a gentle hand on his shoulder; he wrenched it away immediately.

"I'm so sorry ….Harry!" she pleaded, contorting and wringing her hands.

He leapt to his feet, and with a look of pure accusation, hissed down at her:

"No, you're not! YOU had the choice. You made it. I didn't!"

"Harry…" She got to her feet, too, but as she did, he turned his back on her and took a few brisk steps away. An aimless stone crossed the path of his resentful toes and was immediately hurled toward the elevated castle's walls, where it clacked, sprang back, and rolled down into the wild rampant grass flourishing at its foot. He was now standing still two strides away from the wall, his shoulders rising and falling quickly and heavily. Seen from behind, he looked so much like James, it was unsettling. Even his voice sounded like his…She shivered.

_James is dead__, Lily…Now just find a way to get to your son…_

Repressing a sigh of exasperation, she strode resolutely toward Harry and stopped a yard away from his back, beside a battered piece of metal, which seemed to have belonged to a suit of armor. It twisted and swung back and forth.

Harry's outburst had begun to rouse her nerves. It was a tad unfair. What was he thinking? Did he think she had wanted this sacrifice? Could he not just try to guess how much she had suffered, how much her heart had been bleeding each and every day since?

But she could not blame him, either. Pain was the source of his anger, She was so much aware of it. She felt it. He was her child. The irritation swelling inside her stomach deflated; she willed her voice to be comprehensive, steady, and mild.

"Harry..."

He spun on the spot, shaking with anger, his eyes shooting daggers and grief.

"YOU ABANDONNED ME!"

"Harry..." A fresh wave of woe swamped her chest.

"DUMBLEDORE! You could have stood up to him!" he roared.

"I know!" she cried out.

"How COULD YOU...just...just…"

"Harry..." she murmured, excruciated with despair, opening her palms up to him in a gesture of utter dismay "I trusted him….I thought it was the right choice to do."

Harry just stood, neither moving nor speaking, teeth clenched, breathing ragged and shallow.

"I trusted him…" she repeated, in a sorry but somewhat resigned tone, her hands falling back at her sides.

He did not reply, and she shook her head angrily. A thick, intense silence ensued. The only disquiets were the clangs of the piece of armor tinkling against a stone. Lily had slouched down on the rock where she had first been sitting when he had seen her, arms folded over her breast, her features suffused with pain, simply watching him.

Harry was struggling with himself; his wonderful instinct told him she was sincere and understood the motives of Dumbledore's choice. But he had been robbed of his mother, deprived of a happy childhood! Despite God knew how much he truly longed to, he could not simply yield to her arms, not yet. A sweet stroke of the breeze on his cheeks murmured him to surrender to his instinct. Though, before he could work out of his raveled dilemma, pressing yells startled him.


	10. Chapter 10

Again a big thank for your encouraging reviews !

Betaed by Sindie: .net/u/46567/Sindie

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Chapter 10

Though, before he could work out of his raveled dilemma, pressing yells startled him.

"Harry! Harry!... What's going on? " the voice of Neville was shouting from some distance.

The world suddenly expanded back again to the full reality he had been completely oblivious to, as focused as he was on his mother. Harry wheeled around, groggily pulling his wand out, surveying the wide space of lawns, the rubble along the high walls, the group at the entrance in front of castle's doors, the grove of trees only twenty yards away, scrutinizing any spot offering a hiding place where some lost or revengeful Death Eaters could be lurking. His eyes fell on the group lingering at the entrance again; some girls were looking at him oddly. He distinguished Neville. The Gryffindor waved at him.

"Harry? Are you all right?"

"Yes-Yes," panted Harry, understanding his mistake all of a sudden and a tad panicked at the idea they would join him. He cleared his throat and trying to look resolved, gestured at them dismissively.

"I'm fine!…just fine…everything's all right."

_Please go away, please go away…_

Neville waved once more at him, along with a few others, and the group moved slowly inside.

Stowing his wand in his jeans, Harry watched them until they disappeared. His brains skipped hastily to what had just upset him so much. He sighed; even if he were not completely calmed down, somehow weirdly, this unexpected diversion had deflated his fury. It remained only a bitter lump in his throat and a painful sting in his chest. He turned back to his mother again.

Lily was standing a few steps away, still brandishing her own wand, her colorful dress billowing around her. She looked really impressive, and he recalled what Slughorn had said about his favorite student: brilliant, vivacious, and cheeky.

"False alarm," said Harry simply.

"Oh…better so," she smiled weakly, and after a last look around, pocketed her wand back inside her cardigan and crossed her arms so as to hug herself. Just one of those things, she supposed…when one had to live on one's toes for so long.

Harry removed his glasses, wiped them slowly with the fabric of his loose T shirt showing between his sweater and jeans, and put them quietly back on his nose. His blurred vision and wet glasses had prevented him from scrutinizing each detail of her visage and appearance so far. Thin features, delicate skin tone… she was indeed much prettier than her photographed self, even almost twenty years older. No wonder most people who had once meet her remembered.

He stayed silent, still trying to absorb the shock of the truth, forcing his breath to deepen. Voldemort! Once again, Voldemort was the root of all this.

The breeze had grown stronger. Her white scarf was floating over her shoulder, entangling with her fiery hair. A gust came from some distance, ruffling the trees' canopy on its way, and blew a bundle of her locks over her face. She swept them quietly away and folded her arm back again. Crystal clear beads glistened upon her freckled cheeks. She had such a look of shock and bitter disappointment that it was readable all over her lines. A great rush of affection roused within Harry's heart, mollifying his pain. As hurt as he was, he did not want to hurt her, either. She was his mother, he loved her. Their eyes met; she smiled sadly, but warmly.

"Harry…. when I had to leave you… I…" she paused, lifting a hand to her face, and Harry thought she would cry, but she just wiped her eyes, drew a deep breath, and tried again. "Harry…I've thought of you every single day…I missed you so!"

At her words, an irrepressible urge to weep tore at his chest. With slow, awkward steps, he walked up to her, and after a fleeting moment of faltering, flung himself around her neck.

Shyly, almost cautiously at first, Lily lifted her arms and wrapped them around him. Getting over her shock, she let out a small cry of relief and tightened her embrace rashly, enclosing her son in the shelter he had missed so much.

Harry's eyes slid shut; his face crumpled. His throat let out a noisy inhaling sound akin to the wheeze of a drowning man and started shaking with sobs or laughter, he didn't even know. He was just experiencing the most wonderful thing in the world, along with the bitterest despoilment one could imagine. It was a little as though he had thought he was born blind and he had just been told a blindfold was covering his eyes ever since and that he was now discovering he could truly see.

"Harry...Harry..." she cried softly, so unsure if he were still seething or not.

Waves of joy and relief intertwined with waves of anger and grief until, after a while, Harry felt so numb, he began to simmer down. Beginning to think a little straighter, he thought back to Dumbledore's words. A thousand questions started to push in his mind. He recalled his mother's silvery apparition by the side of his father's in the forest. How had this been possible if she lived? Eagerness, drawing strength in resentment and pain, increased to the point of action. Harry wanted to know all of her, what she had been doing all this time, how and where she had lived, everything.

He pulled back and looked at Lily again. She beamed at him, emanating kindness and love through her tears. Behind her, the all blue sky had been clouded with small white sheep-like clouds. Hogwarts' towers were reaching up to the sky. Voldemort was dead. His mother lived. Harry's heart fluttered with joy. He breathed in deeply, and a smile lightened his face. Within his bosom had sparked a huge shining sun.

_It's a beautiful day  
Don't let it get away  
It's a beautiful day..._

"Come, Mum," he offered with quiet joy.

She looked at him a tad quizzically.

"Come, let's find some quiet and lonely place to talk," Harry explained.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would come back soon for lunch, and he wanted to be alone with his mother for a while. They would no doubt wonder a little about his absence, but they would understand later. Lily smiled back, and together, they headed toward the castle's entrance. On the way, Harry recalled the missive, dropped onto the ground.

"Wait for me a sec." He hurried back and quickly spotted the whitish paper, drifting softly over the brilliant green grounds. He picked it up, tucked it in his pocket, and ran to his mother. They set off again.

The front courtyard was empty, and they walked across undisturbed. Curiously, they were not speaking; Harry had so much to ask, and at the same time, the words had fled. He supposed she felt the same. Resentment and anger were still in there, somewhere in his intestines, like a raw flayed patch, but simply watching her was wonderful.

They stepped inside the relatively dark hall compared to the bright sunshine and practically bumped into Professor Slughorn.

"What! My boy?" he said as he grabbed a stumbling Harry by his arm. "Are you all right, my boy?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you," mumbled Harry, righting himself and taking a staggering step toward the staircase, for Lily had already thrown an arm around his shoulders and was pushing her son gently, but firmly thereto. Yet a second later, glancing back into the hall, from behind Harry's ruffled head, her eyes inadvertently met the old Potion master's. He froze on his feet, jaw dropping, eyeballs wide as plums. His rosy cheeks drained of colour, and his lower lip started trembling slightly. Lily quickly pushed Harry forward again.

"You are...aren't you?" Slughorn said faintly, staring at her with shock.

As she turned her head toward him, Lily's grip around Harry's neck loosened, and her arm withdrew from his shoulders, leaving solely her hand lying upon his upper arm.

There was a few seconds of silence, old professor and former pupil looking at each other. Then Slughorn's observation must have been conclusive, for, all of a sudden, he stretched out both his arms broadly.

"Merlin's beard!" he practically shouted, half choking "Lily Evans…My dear child!"

Lily's hand finally slipped from her son, and, smiling at the profuse joy of the old man, she took a step aside so as to face him.

"Yes… indeed, I am, Professor."

"What a wonderful surprise!" he boomed, his watery eyes shining.

"Shh, please, Professor …not so loud" urged Lily immediately in a muffled voice. "I'd rather not let too many people know I live, not yet…"

"Oh…" the short, round professor, thwarted the middle of his sensational plan, spread his fat fingers upon his big belly. "Oh...I see...you'd rather avoid too much publicity around you...." he paused. "Oh...well...I can only sympathize...I suppose, then…" he said, tilting forward and using the same whispering tone as Lily's.

But he had such an air of utter disappointment that Harry repressed a nervous laugh. Sure, one among the best elements of his collection of outstanding protégés willingly missed a chance to stand within the light!

Slughorn patted Lily's shoulder with his pudgy hand and glanced at Harry "Well, my boy…you are a lucky man…indeed…" He nodded. "Indeed…" His head stopped curiously in the middle of its move while he interrupted his sentence, frowning as though something had abruptly popped into his mind, needing his full concentration. "But tell me how in the world …" he grimaced, his voice inflecting into higher tones. "You...you let us all believe you were dead?"

He turned toward Harry, who simply raised his brows and nodded. "I thought her dead until less than an hour, too, sir." Slughorn's brows swept up.

"Professor...if you don't mind…" forestalled Lily before the old wizard could expand over the issue, "I'll explain this later…I promise…I…" She looked at Harry. "I would just like to spend some time with my son right now."

"Of course, of course…" he approved, twiddling the ends of his moustache. "But for goodness' sake…You certainly won't have believed a teacher like me would ever forget one of his best students!" he reproached shrewdly. "You must pay me a visit as soon as you can."

He laid a heavy hand on Harry's shoulder, leaning toward him as he spoke "You'll show your mother the way to my apartments, my boy, won't you?" Harry nodded. "Of course, you're highly welcome, too. I would be delighted to hear about your adventures during your year-long errand throughout our country," he said grandiloquently, with an air as if he were already picturing himself enjoying Harry's tale.

"Thank you, sir." Harry smiled back, rather amused, and squinted down at Slughorn's hand still resting on his shoulder. Slughorn took it off and straightened up. His features sobered, and he seemed to stare beyond the wall behind them for a moment. Lily and Harry exchanged brief looks. When the old Potions master sent back a grave gaze on Lily, his light-blue eyes were gleaming with saturated emotion. He gave her a little fond smile.

"Well... I am sure your return will delight a lot of people… and especially my dear Severus..." He sighed. "I'm on my way to visit him. Madam Pomfrey informed me he's out of the coma..."

Lily's heart leaped with pure joy. Oh, God, this time Severus's life was saved for sure! She barely mastered the strong impulse to rush to his bed side right away, and as she did, a pang of disappointment struck her square in her stomach. She had missed his awakening. Madam Pomfrey had better have really good reasons for sending her away so long!

"And that friendly visits will help him recover..." Slughorn's watery eyes tinted with sadness and a hint of disapproval "To hear you live will cheer him up for sure!" He paused, lost in thoughts in mid-sentence. "And to see you again…" he muttered, shaking his head, "he will be on cloud nine…poor boy…"

The professor's moving tone and expression truly upset Harry, whose heart surged with a wave of compassion for Snape. Harry had missed his mother, of course, but had hardly known her…Snape, however, might have suffered even more than he had from the pretend death of Lily. This sort of bounded a strange new connection between the two of them: after all, she had abandoned them both, though in different ways, of course.

Lily quirked her head slightly sideways, and a sad smile graced her face. "But indeed, Professor…indeed…Severus doesn't know yet ...so please don't tell him anything..."

"Oh! That's a shame!" Slughorn cut in, frowning his wide forehead and shrugging his shoulders. "Why not?" He looked half-irritated and half-surprised. Lily seemed to deliberate a short moment.

The cruelty of her reappearance for Snape seized Harry abruptly then, like he had been splashed with ice-cold water. His heart sank. Even though _Professor_ Snape would certainly be happy she lived ….if he still so dearly loved her, as it seemed to be in his memories, what then? For Harry could only have a tiny hint of how painful unrequited love could feel, remembering the ache twisting his belly when he missed Ginny. Indeed, this wizard had suffered enough for her. As salt rubbed in a raw wound, theses thoughts stirred up betrayed feelings and resentment about the seventeen-year-long silence of his mother anew.

"I –I wish to tell him myself..." Lily replied finally. "So please…don't tell him and don't tell anyone..." She looked quite worried and truly sincere, Harry noticed.

Slughorn's brows unknitted, and his head tilted slightly to the side. "But…"

"Please," Lily insisted firmly. "I don't think it's a good idea Severus should learn I live though someone else. Let me tell to him myself. I'll go visit him as soon as..." her voice trailed off as she glanced at Harry. Well, she seemed to care at least a little for Snape, Harry thought when she met his eyes.

"Please, Professor!" repeated Lily with a steadied voice. Oh, she longed to run to Severus' side so much, she felt like crying. But even if it ripped her heart in two, she could not abandon her son now.

"Hum...well…yes…you're certainly right," Slughorn answered after a few seconds of considering what she had said, stroking his moustache. He paused, seemingly lost in thought again. Lily still didn't look fully convinced and looked a tad agitated observing her old teacher like she were trying to think up of something that might definitely close his mouth on the subject.

When his gaze came back from his daydreams and focused upon them, a wide, proud smile lighted his face. "I've brewed him some potion of mine...my own recipe …with this." He pulled a tiny vial out of his pocket and waved it under Lily's nose. "He'll be back on the saddle tomorrow…Yes, tomorrow you'll see."

"This is very kind of you, Professor!" she exclaimed and paused a second, peering at him.

"I'm sorry, I must insist, but..."

"Don't worry, I won't tell a word," he replied, putting a finger on his lips. "Nothing in the world could make me give away his wonderful surprise." Harry flinched at the words as if he had gulped down a mouthful unripe lemon juice. "But promise me," Slughorn stressed his say with a wet, meaningful look, "don't make him wait any longer than tomorrow."

Lily nodded, straight-faced. "I promise."

"And come to see me soon, then, eh?"

The fat, round wizard patted an unsettled Harry once more on the arm. He bowed a grandiloquent salute and headed toward the stairs. But after only a few steps, he stopped, wheeled around, and trod back to them.

"I do need a pick me up …" he said with a grimace and a conniving smile as he swept by." Besides, I was supposed to check on something in there." He held up a hand in a last good-bye and disappeared in the narrow staircase's passage leading to the kitchens.

Yes…this was cruel for Snape, Harry couldn't help worrying, while he watched his mother pull her cardigan's hood above her head and try to hide her hair within. This was cruel unless…unless she truly cared for him, too…Harry shivered. Anyway, how might Lily come to foster such affection for Snape? Respect, gratitude, even…friendship, of course they had been as children, but love?

A strange, unpleasant, and troublesome feeling slithered between his shoulder blades. But… maybe, after all this time, Snape was more in love with the souvenirs he had from her and would feel for the living Lily, at the most brotherly attachment, something akin to what he, Harry, felt for Hermione…The young wizard sincerely hoped it would be so.

Lily was done and was looking at him expectantly. He gestured toward the stairs. "Let's go." They set off.

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The song:

_It's a beautiful day_

_Don't let it get away  
It's a beautiful day..._

_Is from U2, of course!!_


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for the reviews and new stories alerts; they mean always so much to me!!

In the meantime, I wrote a oneshot flashback between Severus and Lily which takes place nineteen years before; you might like to read it, too, and it will make sense in this story a little later… (_Sectum Nihilis_ is the name of the story.)

Actually, encouraged by your supporting reviews, I submitted _Sectum Nihilis _to Northangel27's Snapely contest, and to my great amazement, it won! ...and Lilyhbp is now drawing an illustration for it.

Irisclaymore made an illustration for chapter 5 here (remove spaces ): http:// irisclaymore . com/art/KIRIBAN-can-t-lose-you-again-142670489

Many thanks again to my readers and reviewers!

Betaed by Sindie: .net/u/46567/Sindie

* * *

Chapter 11

_Lost in the middle of vast pristine white immensity, the world seemed so pure and quiet. Radiating peaceful joy, Lily was stomping beside him, her cheeks pinked with the cold. She was tightly bundled up in her black winter cloak._

_The night had been cloudless; the snow mantel had harden on its surface, forming a crust, which slightly withstood under their boots and then yielded with a crunch, which seemed deafeningly loud in the hushed land, only troubled with soft plops of snow clods falling down from overloaded branches._

_An icy air was burning in his neck and purifying his lungs. His eyes stung, and a few tears leaked out. He was feeling light and happy, though - as light and happy he imagined he could be._

_Lily reached out for his hand and set off running, pulling him with her. The white coating was thick, and soon they fell. Lily's laugh chimed clear and communicative. They got back on their feet. He helped her dust away the snow stuck on her back. Their breaths were misting the air around them. Lily smiled at him. It felt like a bright ray of sun. She was so…_

"_Flap, flap, flap…flap, flap, flap..." _

_She looked around; he pulled his wand out._

"_Flap, flap, flap..."_

_A sporadic flurry flapping was agitating the bottom of a bush a yard or two away from them._

_They got closer. Lily crouched down. Severus pointed his wand. The flapping resumed frantically while she stretched her hands and groped inside._

"_It's a baby raven!" she exclaimed "It think it's wounded its wing."_

_She stood up, the poor animal cautiously cradled within her gloved hands. It dared not move a feather, seemingly then fear-struck. Lily 's eyes fastened on Severus's, pleading him with that look of hers he could not resist._

"_Heal him, Sev…"_

_But the cold air had been biting him harder and harder at his neck. A strange feeling of_ _disconnection had befuddled his mind. The swelling of his heart had subsided, too. It lay now chilled and heavy within his chest, like an oil-smeared cormorant on a beach of Brittany after a shipwrecking. _

"_What for, Lily? It's only a bird..." But there was no disapproval in his voice, only disillusioned curiosity._

"_He deserves to live…Sev...Any life is precious …"_

_The freezing little thing shrieked in her hand when he cast the healing charm on it._

"_Second chance, Sev…who knows…"_

_She turned toward the forest, opened her hands, and swooped them up toward the sky. The raven soared into the thin winter air, its wings gliding almost noiselessly while its caws echoed far in the distance._

_They watched it fly away above the tree tops, a dark spot in the all-white deserted heaven. Soon it vanished, simply its cries resounding long afterwards._

_The burning in Severus's neck had become so intense it was hardly bearable now. He staggered a bit. Lily whirled around and smiled to him. He smiled back bravely, drinking in the sight of her. Her hair was shining like a heartwarming fire._

_But a sudden and dazzling shot of pain threw him down to his knees. He sank up to his waist in the cold cotton coating. Despite the tremendous effort it required, he lifted his head, panting: it was night-dark, and Lily was but a mere figure running away in the ethereal brightness of the moonlight. _

"_Lily!!!!!!!!!" he bellowed, hearing the despair of his own cry. "Lily!!!!!"_

"_It's too late, Sev... It's too late," said Lily's voice, unmoved and echoing between the frozen hills, like the raven's caws. "I did my best to warn you….warn you…warn you…"_

_"Why do you hang on with those guys, Sev? They're creepy…creepy… You're not like them...are you?.... are you? …are you?"_

_Again, he huddled down, biting his lips under new throes. _

_"Lily…please…wait…wait for me…"_

He forced his breath in and out, as deep as he could through his clenched teeth, in an attempt to slacken his taut muscles, to set himself free of this invisible stranglehold.

_This pain is real. Wake up, Sev! Wake up!_

The pulsing and burning fangs that had been gnawing on his body harder and harder would not let him go. It had dragged him out of his sleep into a state of half-slumber, where reality and dreams intertwine. His mind was now floating in this strange state of consciousness at the edge between two worlds. He stirred in his bed, entangling with his sheets, which were ice-cold compared to his feverish skin's temperature, as Lily's silhouette merged with the shadows looming over the horizon.

Lily was gone forever, and the fairy grounds had turned to a frozen hell, a death-pale and soulless place. He wished to lie down just there, to let himself be covered by a snowy shroud and never wake up again, but slowly, pristine glitterings and bluish shines tinted with red, and the dreary scenery dissolved into Hogwarts's blood-red lit headmaster's duty. Severus found himself now sitting behind the headmaster's desk. This…this was no dream, he realized; this had really happened. It was some days since, but it seemed so long ago and at the same time so recent to his hazy and pain-dazed brains.

His left arm lay stretched out, palm up, upon the desktop. He had rolled his sleeve up to his elbow and was staring, eyes unfocused, at the moving mark branded into his flesh. The thickening obscurity added gradually its toll to the blurriness of his vision. Nevertheless, he did not light any candle. This darkness harbored a strange and soothing quietness, and thus he reclined on it. He had not much to allay his torments those days.

At any rate, the burning pain induced by the snake's venom wickedly recalled him the burning of the mark that night…

It had become more and more intense in the course of these last hours…The Dark Lord was angry, very angry; something had upset him…Potter might have accomplished his task, whatever it was…It might be time to tell the boy…Where was that snake now? Where was Potter?

He was so lonely, so lonely, to carry this task out, but oddly it did not weight on him anymore – or he had got so much used to it that he _did not feel_ it anymore. He knew he had the strengths to fulfill his mission. He sneered inwardly: that old Dumbledore had been right in trusting him with it. Actually, the only thing Severus feared was to fail to tell the boy in time. That was the only thing that mattered now: secure the boy's path and lead his steps toward his necessary end. He swallowed back the profound gall which had risen up in his mouth at this thought.

His right hand opened the first drawer, picked up a dead, withered ash tree leaf and put it in the palm of his left hand still resting upon the desktop. Magic flooded pleasantly through his frame, and he watched as the leaf engorge with sap and unfold, as blooming and green as if he had just picked it up. He stared at it for a long while, then set it back into the drawer, where it slowly withered back. His heart had dilated under a fresh surge of pride and bitterness.

_What would you think of me, Lily? See …see where all this had led me…see how I devote every single fiber of my being to the cause…see the man I became… _

The mark tingled nastily. Soon, very soon, the Dark Lord would come back to Hogwarts, where it had all begun, where it would end. He, Severus Snape, had played his part well – with portraits as his only confidents and support – since he had to murder the only man who ever truly trusted him. _Trusted him_, indeed, but not to the point of telling him the _whole_ plan, either. Severus Snape had always been only a pawn on the chessboard. Invisible but crucial, though. C_rucial?_ He mocked himself. _Don't boast. Y_ou_ were at the root of this, Sev...YOU told Voldemort the prophecy; have you already forgotten? _

He shuddered and sighed. It was almost amazing how he had managed to walk so far in this gaunt shell of a man. Not that he cared about his handsomeness - or rather his lack of, he had somehow always known he was ugly and had quickly learnt to value other qualities in himself. But it was obvious that his body had been strained close to its boundaries. Lately he had even tended to avoid watching his reflection too carefully when he had to set his eyes upon a mirror, for his personal hygiene or for a strict minimal checking of his outfit. He had the diffuse foreboding that he was slowly and steadily walking toward death since a year ago; no need to witness it.

Anyhow, he had been dying a little more every day: bearing contempt, hatred, and fierce resistance from students and teachers united, while striving his best to protect them all on the sly; keeping his guard up round the clock to preserve his life from a premature ending, which, no doubt, any member of the Order of the Phoenix would have gladly bestowed upon him if given any opportunity to; and at last, but of the uttermost importance, acting his Death Eater role so well that he had managed to stay in the Dark Lord's good books until now…while, watching over _Potter_ whenever he could.

Oh, yes… Even the dear good-hearted Minerva had manifested his execration up to a level he would have barely foretold. It strongly worked each of her old features each time they met, whether unexpectedly or on duty's purpose.

_If only it had only been this…_

Dark shadow in the now dimly moonlit headmaster study, Severus breathed deeply once more. He hoped it would be soon over. He was tough, yet he was not sure how long his strengths would last henceforth, and besides, he was not especially prone to enjoy extra work concerning that matter, not anymore.

It was odd, how wading through these awful months following Dumbledore's death he had reached a peace and firmness of mind; he never thought he would in his whole life.

_Peace of mind….or the quiet desperation of self-renunciation?_

A tremendous stab, bringing stars in front of his eyes, pierced his left arm. Alecto Carrow had found someone. Potter. The young headmaster stood up.

"Severus…"

Severus turned, scowling, at Dumbledore's portrait hanging behind the throne like chair.

"Good luck…"

Severus did not reply, merely acknowledged, rushed to the doors and left the study in which he had only been a temporary substitute. He had already waived everything in this life, even accepting leading Lily's son to his death. He was ready to fulfill his mission to the very end, whatever the cost. His sole hope was that his soul, if not too much mangled by his deeds, would be granted a peaceful afterlife - if ever there was one.

In his Hogwarts hospital bed, Severus stirred again; his shirt adhered unpleasantly to his sweaty skin. His mind had emerged into consciousness, clouded with the gloomy feelings of this recollection. The angry and bitter snake prowling inside his stomach had also reawakened. Passing years had mollified the intensity of his spite, and he was better at taming it also, but it was still dwelling in there, ready to bounce up on its coils and bite.

_A peaceful afterlife,_ he brooded. A peaceful afterlife…or even the mere void of nothingness, at least an end to this miserable life…. that was what he had wished once his mission accomplished, not this…not surviving!

His distraught heart began to strike his ribcage fast and disorderly. Waves of sadness rippled over him, tightening his mangled throat. He shuddered and lifted a hand to his neck, which was pulsing with pain. He had probably slept long, and the effect of potions had worn off. His fingers probed the bandage for a short moment while his chest began to heave. He let his hand limply slide down onto the mattress. He swallowed hard. Dying looking into Lily's eyes would have been an appropriate mead for his deeds… Not this… not this!!

His breath had become shallow and quick. Each intake of air took to knifing his wounds. He felt giddy and pitiful. Feeble as he was, he should not rouse himself like this, of course he should not.

His strong will managed to temperate his heart's distress, and within a few minutes, he cleared his mind. He opened his eyes, blinked at the ceiling, and closed them again, listening to the slight hubbub suddenly animating the ward, focusing his brain to identify each and every single noise, but all too soon the whirl of bitter thoughts came back.

Madam Pomfrey had said he was a "kind of a hero now", if he recalled her words correctly. "_Kind of,"_ he sneered inwardly. Of course, he could never be a _true hero_, at any rate. Humph. This was ridiculous. He did not care about this anymore, did he?

And yet, there was a time when the true Slytherin he was would most probably have maneuvered to turn that kind of situation to his best.

But now what? (He would have let out a wry snigger if he could.)

The worst of all, actually, was the price for this ridiculous belated fame. That his heart's matters had been spread out for the world to trample on it, and he, being alive to see that… The more he thought about it, the less he could bear it. Once again, life was so unfair with him…_He should be used to it_, he mocked himself again.

The sardonic train of thoughts ran forth, like one's legs walking by themselves on a familiar path. Maybe this was a blessing...Who knew after all? Maybe he had not done enough to make up for what he had done, and if he had died, he would only have burnt in hell. Ah-ha...or someone had decided this would be a better chastisement for Severus Snape? Brilliant …or even better, he had been granted a new reprieve, an extra chance so he could be redeemed. What a joke! Honestly, had he not done enough???!!! Did he not deserve mercy?

He exhaled hard, fighting to calm down; he did not feel like rousing himself too much again.

A little voice at the back of his head murmured that he might finally start to live for himself. _Nonsense!_ The irony of this, nevertheless, was that he was perfectly aware that he had precisely reached enough maturity to live an independent and rightful life. But no. He fostered no such desire anymore. No, not since long ago, not since he was a boy or even young man dreaming of his brilliant future. Well - not exactly. To be honest, he had sometimes strongly hoped this day would happen, in his deepest moments of despair. But now, it was over. It was too late. His striving had drained all strength from his core.

Even the small relief of knowing he had succeeded in his mission had already faded away. The relief of being exonerated of his traitor etiquette, he did not care about. They may loathe him, despise him, curse him; he did not care, as he was so used to it.

No...There was nothing left, nothing to live for, nothing else that he could do for Lily now…

He shivered. His chest constricted. It would have been so easier if he had died…

_You gave me the strength to live through; will you give me the strength to live forth? Lily…_

As if the inconveniences due to his wounds were not enough, the muscles of his back were taut, most unpleasantly stiff. He tried to roll over. It resulted in a fantastic shot of pain in his neck. He had to renounce. His powerlessness struck him hard, swamping his chest with bitterness and anger anew. He had endured a lot of varied injuries along his life, but he had almost always been able to help himself.

There was a high-pitched outcry, somewhere up in the ward, then Madam Pomfrey' s voice exclaimed, "Oh, dear! Dear! Dear!". which was followed by more noises of moving, the scraping and clapping of shoes on the floor, and the banging of doors.

Oh! He hated being there; he wanted his rooms, quiet, privacy; he wanted to get back in the shadows of the dungeons.

He noticed some soft whispers and rustles that were growing louder above the indistinct background noise, as though a small crowd were approaching. They were certainly visitors for an injured lying in a bed close to his. Choler inflated within his gut, making it, at least, easier to fight despair back. He kept his eyes closed and did his best to remain still: if he were lucky, these people would think he was sleeping and would leave him alone. Don't they dare disturb him!

The steps stopped. This person, whoever it was, was not very fit, he thought from the loud puffing.

"So! How is our favourite headmaster? " boomed a well- known voice.

Out of surprise, Severus cracked his eyes open on… Horace Slughorns' chubby face.

Blinking and wincing, Severus lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright light. There was definitely no mercy in this world.

"Good to see you alive and kicking, Severus!." exulted his visitor. "I have certainly seen you in better shape, but I'm sure you'll be up on your feet in no time, and I'll rejoice at seeing you stride along corridors and send rule-breakers and dunderheads to detention."

"Certainly, Horace…If you say so… " Severus replied with a delicate strain of sarcasm in his hoarse voice. He dispensed himself to elaborate further; it was not worth an extra whip of pain.

He dropped his arm back down on the bed and glared at his stout colleague, slightly squinting his black eyes at him. _What does that old Slughorn want, exactly?_

For a second, the latter pulled a slightly embarrassed face, although his watery eyes were still sparkling.

"Oh, stop looking at me like this, Severus!" he teased genially, while the tips of his moustache rose. He looked like the cat that got the cream. "I've brought you something that will help."

Severus's eyes followed the plump hand as it plunged inside the velvet waistcoat and withdrew with a tiny vial, proudly flourishing it.

"Here you are!"

Scowling and staring at the green and slightly fluorescent liquid, Severus did not turn a hair. The pudgy fingers popped off the lid and shoved the vial under his nose.

"So, what do you think it is? "

Severus's brow creased deeper. But his natural intellectual curiosity took over, and he tried to gather his brains to find out the essence of the vial._ Werewolf blood, unicorn hair…_

"Energy replenishing potion," cut in Slughorn "- my personal recipe! It will fill you up with fresh strength within a minute! I brewed it myself, of course," he asserted with a broad, satisfied grin. "And now, down with it!"

Severus pretended not to have heard and peered at the jovial face. After a short but close examination, he could tell the man was indeed extraordinarily relieved. However, he doubted this emotion was genuinely consequential to the survival and recovery of his former pupil and colleague. This looked rather like self-relief: the joy a man feels when against any hope and clue he has been proven right in the end. This wizard was a braggart about his abilities to judge peoples' character; he must have hated being mistaken about his Slytherin's fellow commitments. Surely, only hearing about the background story could have relieved him so much, not seeing Severus Snape still be in the land of the living.

"Please don't be difficult, Severus; drink it," insisted Slughorn.

"Oh, come on, Horace…don't you see he needs help?" interfered the tight, but slightly wobbling voice of Minerva McGonagall.

Bewildered and strongly embarrassed, Severus frowned and swept his gaze beyond his corpulent visitor. The sight made him arch an eyebrow. They were all there, Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout - all those who had chased him out of the castle that night- standing in a row at the end of his bed. Deep inside his chest, something wrung; his hand clenched convulsively on the sheets. He glared at them, scowling.

Flitwick looked rather contrite and grave, wagging from one foot to the other; Sprout was smiling poorly, and Minerva…

Minerva was watching him with great concern. She hastily joined Slughorn at his very bedside, and it was obvious from the rosiness on her cheeks, her brisk and slightly shaking demeanours, that she was greatly moved and relieved also. She snapped the vial out of Slughorn's hands and turned to him.

"Let me help you."

He scowled deeper while she leant forward, gently slid a hand under his head and very carefully helped him to lift it up a little. Despite her precautious gestures, the move sent a rush of pain, like a burning flame running through him. He gritted his teeth, trying not to let out a single sound.

"Here."

She pressed the brim of the bottle to his lips; he complied, and she slowly poured the potion into his mouth. He swallowed, but could not help the twitching of his features.

"Poppy said it was also time for another dose of pain-reducing potion."

Without slackening her support under his head, she stretched a hand toward Slughorn, who gave her another vial, and she tipped the contents of it the same gentle way into his mouth. He swallowed again, and she guided his head back down on the pillow. After that, she even wiped his lips with a cloth.

It was very odd. Very odd, indeed. He supposed he felt a little like a sick child nursed by his mother, although he had no recollections of his mother taking care of him that way.

A strange, warm, and tickling wave raced through his body from head to toe, and he immediately felt better, not so dead-weary anymore; the pain wore off greatly, too.

But now, lying so, with all these people watching him, appeared suddenly all the more inappropriate, almost humiliating; his embarrassment raised a step higher; a hot flush surged upon him.

He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, struggling to sit up. Minerva nimbly reached out to replace the pillows behind his back, and he settled down, avoiding meeting her gaze.

He could not help his mouth from twitching in a sneer. She and the others were indeed all of a sudden so well-intentioned and caring. The last time he had seen her, she had attacked him fiercely and without warning; they had been in such a fury against him - they had been determined to kill him, actually.

"Well…well, Minerva…how is that, that now…that I deserve so much of your consideration and… solicitude?" he asked softly.

At least half-reclined on the bed, the first shock of their visit overcome and filled with fresh energy, he felt a little less helpless.

She sighted. "I owe you an apology, Severus."

"You owe me?" he retorted wryly.

"I'm sorry, Severus." She looked at him as for understanding, but he barely glanced up and just waited quietly, not expressing anything but scorn by pursing his lips.

"I am sorry for this wild and deliberate assault on you during the night of the battle..."

"And we're grateful you only defended yourself and did not try to hurt us," cut in Flitwick's whining voice.

McGonagall nodded at the interruption, but her gaze remained steadily fixed on Severus.

There was a short silence. Severus looked up and held her gaze this time. His heart was beating faster; his lungs were strangely oppressed. He did not even hold any resentment against them, did he? He had played his act so well, they could only be fooled. So why did they bother with an apology? Why did they even come to visit him? Oh, how much he despised their miserable attempts to apologize.

"I'm sorry for my distrust…" she pursued, "and for my nasty and malignant behaviour toward you all this last year, Severus."

"We all are," squeaked Flitwick.

Suddenly, Severus felt cornered, utterly trapped with no way out in this hospital bed. Despite his tenacious resistance, a wave of pure distress broke upon him. A lump rose in his throat; a bitter taste at the back of his mouth tightened his jaws; his breath went shallow; he struggled hard not to shout at them that they were liars, that they haven't cared a whit about him and that they still did not.

All this last year, he had had to bury his feelings, his needs, his true self so deep, that he had most of the time grieved to have become a complete stranger to himself. But this - this threatened him like an earthquake; this threatened to crack his walls and to resurface a huge and possibly uncontrollable amount of tormented jumble.

"Enough!" he roared as loud as his mangled throat would allow him, but inside, he felt like crying. Their pathetic pleas were motivated by guilt. They just wanted to ease their consciences. Who would ever be truly sorry for Severus Snape?

"Severus…" pleaded Minerva worryingly; her tone was unusually unsteady. "I only mean to express my deepest..."

"Enough of this!" he snarled, casting them dirty looks.

There was another moment of silence, much thicker this time. His outburst seemed to have subdued some of their enthusiasm.

Oh, yes, of course, sometimes he had wished that Minerva, at least, would have guessed, but it was better she had not; she would have blown his cover and the plan likewise. Anyway, he did not want their pity. He abhorred being pitied. He breathed deeply, mastering distress with embittered, disillusioned cynicism once again. He wouldn't make a fool of himself. He scanned his visitors with a cool, bottomless gaze, rolled his eyes, and then spoke in a slow, low voice.

"The war, Minerva…it was war…. You've barely seen the tip of the iceberg." He paused a few seconds, his glare defying her to interrupt. "We all played our part as well as we could."

Then he crossed his arms upon his chest. He had meant this to be the end of this issue. Obviously Minerva was too much of an unsubtle and stubborn Gryffindor to get it. She shamelessly trampled straight on his expectations.

"Yes, Severus…certainly…but some of us played a much harder and risky part," she insisted, stressing her words with meaningful looks.

He thought for a second of turning his face away to conceal the hotness he felt rising to his cheeks, but he relinquished. It would have been a worse avowal of weakness. He must have blushed only a little a bit, after all. But then he caught the glimpse of an indulgent smile on her benevolent visage and knew she had noticed. A flame of anger whooshed upon him. Was his fierce will to put a brave face on, to refuse any apology and gratitude what amused her?

"I thought I had said this was enough, Minerva," he replied icily. It did not sound as convincing as it should have, though.

She leant toward him, laying a firm hand on his arm and searching his eyes. He flittered them down at her hand, profoundly uneasy. _Gryffindor's stubbornness should be damned! _He wanted to withdraw his limb from her grasp, but somehow, he was like paralyzed between contradicted desires: the snake within his stomach was hissing angrily, eager to bite, but an urge to weep was also seeping out again, from deep inside. He ground his teeth and looked up at her, taking great care to keep his features closed and sardonic.

Her mien was as solemn and tight as if she were standing in front of anyone who's anyone, about to discourse, but her eyes softly glowed with sadness and awe.

"Severus Snape," she stated, "you'll stay forever in Hogwarts's history as the bravest teacher and headmaster this school ever housed. In the name of all the staff, I thank you."

He held her gaze the briefest moment more and then turned his head away with a lazy, dismissing gesture of his hand.

"Who cares, Minerva?"

It was so tearing inwardly that he had to curtail his sentence. The muscles of his jaws were tightened. He swallowed the sour taste in his mouth hard. He knew she was trying to give him a bit of what he had immensely needed: sympathy, recognition, and gratitude. But it was too late. He was far beyond this. He did not care anymore. The Dark Lord had been undone…Lily's son was safe…That was all that mattered.

"And that's not all, Severus," Minerva added, breaking the silence before it became sheer embarrassing for both of them.

She went round the bed and grasped his left forearm. This time, he tried in earnest to snatch it out out of her grip, but she seized him a little tighter, and he was too weak to fight. So he scowled up at her, his dark eyes flaring.

"Let go of my arm!"

He broke into a raw cough and glared at her as though she were responsible for it.

"You might not have already noticed," she said, ignoring his looks, "but..." Her eyes smiled, and she pulled his sleeve up to his elbow. The skin was pale and bluish veined, with apparent tendons, but unsoiled.

"You are free from this infamous stain now." There she smiled in earnest.

Severus's right hand, that had hung in mid-air a few seconds, at the ready to help his left arm in his fight for freedom, dropped down on the sheets. The Dark Mark had vanished. Not worn out or faded, but completely and utterly vanished! His first moment of surprise overtaken, he finally withdrew his arm from her grasp and stared down at it. His flesh was clean. The mark had died with its master… Free ... no, he would never be free. His soul would always bear Lily's death and his numerous errings.

His fingers grazed tentatively along the pale flesh up to the mark. No burning, nothing. He rubbed a little firmer, like he mechanically used to do before the Dark Lord returned. A second later, he shuddered under a violent tremor. A well-known and unpleasant feeling had sprung up like an abruptly awoken ugly beast.

"No, Minerva, it's not gone. It left a scar, inside," he murmured.

Maybe it was better so after all, he thought. Yes, it was. He did not want to forget. He would keep this scar as a constant and ever-reminder of his wrong choices and mistakes.

He slowly lifted his head and surveyed the room. The sun was brightly shining throughout the ward. Others injured were quietly resting in their beds; Madam Pomfrey poked her face out of her office, peered around a minute or two, and then retreated. His gaze drifted back to his visitors. The genial Horace Slughorn had joined the other staff members; his large frame was leant against the bottom guardrail of Severus's bed, and all of them were now chatting pleasantly. Only Minerva was still standing very close to him. He observed her out of the corner of his eye. She looked a bit disappointed and pained, as though she had imagined this discovery would have been a great comfort to him, a sort of reward she thought he had earnestly deserved, and from which he had been deprived unexpectedly.

"At least no one sees but you…" she said, sounding truly sorry.

He nodded imperceptibly – he did not feel like pressing on her dashed hopes. He did not know exactly why, but no, he would not be sarcastic, not this time. Pulling his sleeve down, he cast a glance through the window at the brilliant green Hogwarts grounds, which could be seen from here, and then stared back absent-mindedly in front of him. He was free from the Dark Lord, at least and at long last. He was free. Free from two masters. But it had not brought him the relief he had expected it would, the relief he dreamt of in his moments of anguish and despair. Indeed, he felt rather empty and bereft. How could this make sense? There was only one thing left, said a little voice at the back of his head: Forgive yourself. _No way! _As he quickly pushed the indecent thought out of his mind, a soft pressure on his shoulder made him flinch and tense up.

"Severus..." said Minerva's voice, thick with emotion.

He initiated a move to wriggle his shoulder out of her hand, but he had barely squirmed when she spontaneously took her hand off. He hoped she would not make a habit of doing this, of touching him like this every ten seconds. It caused his heart to waver, the snake within his stomach to hiss, and his cheeks to flush. It was most unpleasant.

"I truly wish I had known…" she offered. "Dumbledore held you in a great esteem. He always trusted you. He…he," she stuttered, "he told me explicitly that he was absolutely convinced in your loyalty… He would not hear a word against you!" She made a short pause while she inhaled a bit noisily. "I deeply regret…" she proceeded. "I wish I had known….If you ever need anything... in any way…please come to me."

_Come to you?_ Severus scoffed inwardly, tussling with what felt like an army of tiny spiders crawling upon him. _What makes you think you could help me in any way? Why would I seek your help? _But there was something, indeed. It had just popped out in his mind. He glanced up, sideways, at her black, stern, and pointed hat-capped figure. A little smirk twisted the corner of his mouth.

"Minerva, would you tell Potter I want my memories back?"

She emitted a small, muffled squeak. It seemed his brusque request had taken her by surprise. He peered up at her face. She quickly steeled herself, raising her eyebrows above her glasses.

"Don't worry about them," she asserted. "They are safe in the headmaster's office, in the Pensive, exactly where Potter left them Friday night. I haven't brought them back to you yet, because" - she cleared her throat - "because we need them to clear your name."

_We_? immediately registered Severus. So he was fully back in the team, then? _Just as if nothing had ever happened?_ He sneered inwardly again. Well, she was rather thinking about other members of the Order of the Phoenix or about any of her acquaintances. Anyway, he had not asked her anything. What was she doing clearing his name behind his back? She had a strange glint in her eyes. He frowned and folded his arms over his chest.

"Err … Minerva?! We need you here!" shouted a cheerful voice. Both Severus and Minerva turned their heads. Horace Slughorn was gesturing dramatically. "Minerva, come please! We need you!"

She moved to the company at once, not forgetting to give Severus a kind _you-won't-get-rid-of-me like-this_ look before she left. He slowly leant back against the pillows and sighed. Minerva was sincere; he could not deny her that. But she could not understand there were wounds too deep to heal and deeds beyond atonement…

"And now let's celebrate together with a good meal!" exclaimed Professor Slughorn above the indistinct chatter, beaming at Severus.

The round wizard gracefully flicked his wand, together with his colleagues, and Severus watched, confused and mortified at the appearance of a neat table and its set of tartan cushioned chairs precisely across from his bed in the middle of the aisle. A second later, the table bent under an incredible amount of varied food: pies, roasted meat, porridge... wine bottles, and dishes. Slughorn gloated there was even crystallized pineapple. Severus's widened eyes roved over the whole scene. It was actually a fair miniature imitation of the school welcoming feast. Sprout and Flitwick began to fill plates, loudly informing that there was enough food for everyone here, and Sprout set off to carry up the plates thus prepared to the injured up in the ward.

"Sybill, will you take some soup?"

"What about you, Miss Brown? "

Standing on the threshold of her office, Madam Pomfrey looked a tad cross, but when Sprout handed her a plate with a disarming smile, her face eased, and she smiled back.

McGonagall had settled in a seat beside Flickwick, but Slughorn was still standing up, bustling about the table. At last, he turned toward Severus, smiling broadly and carrying a small tray, where lay a glass of red wine, a plate filled to the brim, and a piece of bread.

"As far as Madam Pomfrey is caring, I will nonetheless bet you still haven't tasted any substantial meal since you awoke, have you?" he said shrewdly and looking utterly delighted. Severus supposed it was his derailed face whose sight the man enjoyed so much, for he was not making any particular effort at the moment to smooth his features, and nothing, indeed, was going on like he had expected.

"That's not really your concern, Horace…" he snapped, quirking his brows at the overloaded plate the fat wizard was bringing to him. "Really, you go too much out of your way."

"Stop sulking, m'boy…and enjoy company for once," was the pesky rejoinder.

The so admonished man scowled; however, he unfolded his arms and let the fat wizard put the tray on his lap. Actually, he had not eaten anything substantial for days. He looked down his nose doubtfully at the roasted potatoes and grilled sausages. His body would certainly be grateful, but his stomach? He was not so sure, and above all, he doubted he could bring this down his mangled throat.

"Cormac, my boy, some sausages?" asked Slughorn, turning around. For the first time he was here, Severus paid attention to the human being occupying the bed beside his and recognized the young Cormac McLaggen.

"Well, Professor," replied the handsome boy, "my parents should arrive any minute now… to take me home…" There, he glanced at Severus. Severus watched him blankly for a second, then smirked, and before looking away, looked down upon him with his best professor's air. Why should lying in beds next to another in the same hospital, suffering with injuries inflicted during the same battle, or even being a _bloody_ _war hero_ should affect his behavior toward pupils?

"Oh, you can still eat something before you go, my boy!" proposed Slughorn in his boisterous ways, " and besides, your parents are very much welcome if they wish to join us!"

The moment the enormous professor took a step toward the profusely furnished table, the doors swung open, and a tall, blonde, and pretty woman entered, her arm hooked under her husband's, who was also tall and athletic looking, although his face was much more common than his wife's. McLaggen had luckily inherited the best of his each parent's genes, thought Severus.

McGonagall rose and greeted them warmly, performing her duty of Head of House perfectly well and then took them to Slughorn's care. But the latter enthusiastic summons could not convince them to join the party. Mrs. McLaggen hurriedly gathered his son's belongings in a duffel bag while her husband helped him out of the bed.

When Cormac McLaggen stood, propped on crutches, Severus saw that the golden boy had lost half of his right leg during the battle. He looked away, fighting a qualm and feeling so very tired with all this, too tired, indeed, to risk meeting the mother's eyes, yet he discreetly beheld the reaction of his fellow Slytherin.

Slughorn muttered something that sounded like "Girls love pirates", but his manners had been deprived of their dashing exuberance as if he had just been splashed with cold water. He watched the family leave, hovering thoughtfully beside the emptied bed.

_Horridly pathetic,_ sneered Severus for himself. Squinting down at the tray on his lap, he let out a short sigh, stuck a bit of potatoes on his fork, and nibbled on it. His stomach was rumbling. He was alive. He had to eat. He had not much time to experiment whether his throat would tolerate the food or not, though, for a very high-pitched voiced Minerva McGonagall exclaimed, "Horace! What have you been thinking?"

Severus lifted his nose from his plate. She was rushing toward him, looking indignant. His eyebrows raised slightly, his brow furrowed, but he was almost amused.

"Minerva...I…" mumbled Slughorn, offering one of his fluffy smiles.

But Minerva had already been swept by her colleague's round body and peremptorily took the plate from Severus's tray.

"I'll give you something more appropriate."

Already, she had wheeled around. Severus's mouth twisted in half a smirk as he watched her dart to the table and hurry back with another plate. It was filled with an odd-looking mashed mixture.

"Potatoes with chicken and varied vegetables," she announced, putting the new plate on his tray.

He scowled deeper, looking down at the food, nevertheless very pleasantly unsettled by her gesture.

"Baby food!" he sneered, looking up at her. "I still have my teeth, though..."

"Oh, Severus..." she chuckled. "Witty as ever. You're better, indeed, I see." She paused, then her lips parted again, but they only trembled imperceptibly and then closed again. Her voice seemed checked, but her eyes, her eyes, as if her heart were overflowing through them, expressed how sorry she was, how much she wanted to make things right. Her hand glided toward the tablespoon as though she wanted to pick it up. He forestalled her, slamming the utensil against the tray.

"Minerva!"

They faced. He fiercely held her gaze for a full ten seconds, then blinked and turned slightly away.

"I can feed myself, Minerva," he said, very low. "It's all right."

She nodded bleakly, sighed, and finally cast him a brief, small smile, and left to resume her seat at the table. He slowly released his grip over the tablespoon and then arranged himself back against his pillows.

He had to concede that all this - the egocentric old Horace brewing a potion for him, Minerva's words and attentive gestures, that meal, even the pathetic apologies - it felt good, even if in an odd way. It painfully racked, pressed and pierced, in so many sore spots deep inside him; these oozed again, but it also smelled like a glass of wine to a teetotaler. It was tantalizing. Surely, it flattered his ego. Acceptance, friendly care…such a tiny bit of them tasted like a treat. There was such a long time he had not got a mere breath of them. It seemed ages.

Actually, what was most unnerving, above everything, was that all this was given to him by people from the good side - righteous people - humph, he must be going a little mad with the poison to start gratifying people with that kind of adjective. Well, at the very least to ordinary mortals, they were indeed.

Sure enough, their so amicable attitude would not last. He was not so naive as to believe it would. But just for the moment, he might indulge himself to relish in it - if he could do that without breaking his walls. He breathed deeply and swallowed hard through his clogged throat. Yes, he could try that. He breathed deeply again and focused on his love for Lily, engraved in the deepest part of his heart, on the sympathy he had felt emanating from Minerva, and even - why not after all? - on the riddance of Voldemort . Gradually, slight soothing warmth – bitter still, but soothing nevertheless – began to diffuse within his chest. Everything considered, it tasted not so unlike a little piece of dark chocolate after a head-to-head with Dementors.


	12. Chapter 12

Warnning : this is un-beata-ed for now ! and English is not my mother tongue…

I thought it would be cool to post a chapter for the release of the movie, as a thank to everyone who commented and encouraged me with this story! Thank you so much! 3

_20 minutes earlier…_

Her heart fluttering within her breast like a bird encaged within a pair of hands, Lily followed up her son into the marble stair case.

Now, she could only hope with all her might that Slughorn would keep his word. This man was big- hearted and sensible despite his apparent superficiality and self-interested manners, wasn't he? But all the will she put in hoping could not undo the knot in her stomach.

Harry was swiftly bouncing up, two steps at a time. She hurried, curbing her hood over her head with one hand, trying not to get left behind. It felt a little odd, as though he was fleeing from her. She decided to believe that his haste was positive. He was probably as eager as she was to talk. (She fought the thought it would be to reject her again). Maybe he had understood through her insisting requests to professor Slughorn, how anxious she was to stay anonymous a little longer and he was just leading them as fast as possible to a safe hidden spot?

The sound of her own breathing in her ears, the movements of her limbs, the efforts of her muscles, the soreness building in her jittery legs, were all unusually sharp but the world around seemed to have faded into a soft, distant image of reality, as though she was climbing one of these winding staircases she ascended sometimes in her dreams, whirling up and up through intermittent clusters of clouds, and never ending.

_Harry...OMG Harry...Harry…_

Maybe she was dead. She had joined her dead baby who had carried on growing up in this strange dimension.

That grown up Harry was now a good fly of stairs ahead, stepping onto the first landing. A surge off stress chilled her. She strained to catch back up, feeling suddenly grateful to the boiling that had been, since the morning, increasingly infusing her veins with this fierce, wild, oddly electrical-feeling energy. A poor overpowered electrical puppet, not so sure of how long it will sustain the over-use. That was what she was.

She stepped onto the first floor. Her heart took to thud. Heat rose to her cheeks. Something twisted and tore layers of flesh within her chest, as if some big insect was squeezing out of its dried-up cocoon. But cocoons don't feel pain. It all felt too very much real. She walked on, bending her head, watching her black sneakers squeak up on the stone floor.

_Your son first, Lily. Sev is safe...Sev is safe. He does not wait after you anyway… _

The hospital doors were really neat, with this sculpted vines crawling all around them, guarding the ward for unwanted visitors. These plants looked alive. And now they were indeed wreathing and blurring and Lily knew it was just like when you watch an overheated road faraway ahead.

She blinked. Within the second-length time lapse when she couldn't see anything at all, just before this small, mat "plop" happened on her sweater, Severus's thin, black cloaked frame glided through the doors.

Beside her, James collapsed, wand half-raised, on the tiled floor. Severus 's hair straggling and over long hair, flew around him, while he marched straight up to her, his wand aimed directly at her chest.

Wind and rain were gushing inside the kitchen through the smashed door, ruining the lovely flowering wall-paper. How could she notice such prosaic details in such moments?

His breath - the smell of cold stones, of earth and grass. - His hard, dangerous look.

Her bulging belly rippled under the palms of her hands but not a sound escaped her mouth while he clasped his long bony fingers around her wrist.

In the next room, Alice squealed. He moved her hand away, pulling it toward him, like he was taking back something that belonged to him and glanced curtly at James's body.

"Grab him"

The crumpled form of her husband, lied dead-still at her feet.

"Grab him!"

His words were sharp, cutting, crossing through tightened, bloodless lips.

"He's merely knocked out. Lily , Grab him!

Why did the way he said her name made her flinch like that?

Severus's fingers still tightly holding her right wrist. The back of her hand pressed against his hard, heaving ribs.

Eventually with her free hand, she clutched on James by his arm. Noises of curses, noises of fight. The other hand pressed hard against Severus. The sensation of his sliding a cold object in its palm. The remote awareness of more dark figures entering the kitchen behind him. The soft pressure of his hand, like a caress to close her fingers. His gaze that suddenly changed, which, within a second, had opened and the certitude piercing her that never ever she would be able to cut him out of her. Yells, just as he released her, jets of curses flashing everywhere while the walls began to spin around and to vanish, as James and she were sucked away by the Portkey…

A deep breath. A slight shudder. Lily dashed her eyes with the back of her hand, and looked up into the staircase.

Harry had already reached the second floor. He was resting his chin between his cupped palms, his elbows propped on the handrail, watching her.

She grabbed on the banister and set off, up again. What a poor mother she was. Did she only deserve to call herself a mother?

Guilt was a vicious little monkey perched onto your shoulder. It was supposed to help you be a better person. But that was not true. You could feel guilt and nevertheless just do bad things. Be a bad person.

Since she knew Sev was awake, she had wished to be done as quickly as possible with this talk with her son.

Did he know she had been thinking of Severus?

Harry gave her a little smile, raised his head, softly gesturing something that might have meant "hey…hurry up...are you so out of breath already?"

Despite of herself, she smiled back. He reminded her of one the teens she had given some lessons to, a highly sensitive boy who had a passion for basketball. Jonah. When Jonah felt hurt, he teased her on her advanced adult age, sometimes, as a defense.

She saw herself sitting by severus 's side, watching him during his sleep, the lines of his face furrowing as he stirred. She saw herself looking out to the clouds through the high paneled windows of the ward, imagining creatures out of their changeling shapes, and suddenly catching sight of Harry strolling over the grounds.

The same restlessness would have wrenched her.

As soon as she reached the second landing, Harry moved on. She kept on. Her feet were a little lighter now.

That part of the stairs had been severely damaged. Whole steps were missing, the railing was scattered, even the walls missed stones. Portraits hanged askew. Some way beyond salvation, others only studded with black holes like a linoleum floor burnt by cigarettes butts. All of them scared.

Funny how she remembered that one, and this over there…

But from that little golden frame, a pointed teethed witch was staring at her.

Cold sweat and a pang in the fluttering heart. Lily abruptly turned her head away, drawing her scarf to her face and rushed up, fighting retches, feverishly pushing back inside her hood a few strands of hair which had obstinately sneaked out.

Third floor. "You're name's Evans right?".The faces of classmates yet since long forgotten smiled at her and morphed into grimaces. Muggle-born. _Mud_ blood. "Sev does it matter or not?".

Harry swiftly walked up and up. Never ending cloudy stairs. Whirling up and up. Lily now kept her eyes down at the steps, glancing at Harry only every now and then.

The clapping of theirs feet widened in the uproar of a throng of children. Above it, the shrill voice of the Head Girl. Tall silky black haired. Christine. "First years over there!".

Were they indeed heading to griffindor's ? Stinging thrill at her retching fluttering heart. A hundred pairs of eyes watched her, in a gigantic room whose ceiling looked perfectly like the stormy sky outside. _O-oh there's no dithering with you: " Gryffindor!"_

Oh the disappointment and vexation in Sev's thin face! …. – oh God… how will he feel seeing her alive after all these years?

Guilt was a vicious little monkey and heart was made of so tender flesh.

Fourth floor. There were no more portraits at all on the walls here, and it was all very quiet and empty all around. A melancholic peace fell upon her and she fastened her gaze on the nape of her son, a bit like a drifting boat anchoring on a tugboat.

But there were something hypnotizing as well in the heaving move of Harry's shoulders and the jolting of his spiky strands of hair at the back his head. He was James running up these very stairs, brandishing the Quiddich cup with Sirius on his heels, exulting and boasting around.

Stop. They were DEAD. Both. DEAD. Long ago. Long, long, long ago.

Her throat was burning. She breathed harder.

Harry was thinner. His hair somewhat darker too. And his shoulders, yes, they had a slightly different shape. They met his neck with a softer angle as James's. But he had this little bump where the collarbone joined the shoulder bones too.

Were the little lumps of his spine all nestled in a neat sunken lane along his back, like his father's? Or did they bulge out ungracefully from the third of its length like hers?

She carried on hard tracking details that distinguished her grown-up son from the picture of James she had kept in mind. But James's picture was mischievous and fickle. It seemed to want to merge and morph into Harry. And not only. It kept on bringing companions: more and more forgotten faces, flickering with the roaring fire cracking in the hearth of a circular room.

So very James.

The friendly ghosts were drifting around, in reeling circles, their names popping up from nowhere like bubbles on the surface of a black water pond and Lily could not know with what her last thought was heaviest: fond nostalgia or bitterness?

She could not either clearly recognize the surroundings anymore. It seemed to her they were reaching the sixth floor but she could not remember having gone pass the fifth. Maybe she had lost count of them. Oh that was probably a trick of that weird dimension – growing people and shrinking the stairs. That might account for the light giddiness of her head too - as though she had breathed over a smelling cauldron of Alihotsy's essence.

Thick mist hovering over never ending whirling stairs.

She noticed them only at the very last moment, when Harry darted pass them on the half landing. They greeted him with affectionate looks. Some smiled and raised their hands. With icy prickles of fear and a strange mixture of joy and unsettlement, she recognized professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Trelawney.

They passed by her, deeply engrossed in their talk. Not even an eye set on her.

They could not see her. Because she too was dead. She had died so long ago.

She scurried up the rest of the steps to the next landing, and reaching it at last, had to pause, panting, a stitch in her side. Harry skimmed the long corridor on her right and disappeared behind a pair of giant, bodiless legs of limestone.

There were noises of more people coming. Lily strained herself suit behind Harry.

This corridor was dark, winding and narrow. Unlike the marble staircase and the main passages it had not been cleared in the least. Dust and rubbles covered the floor and, hither and thither, huge stones partially blocked the way. Not a breath of the spring breeze wafted up there. The air was thick and still. Mashed potatoes thick.

She walked on slowly. Senses numbed. Trying to catch her breath in this mashed potatoes thick air.

The shape of Harry waited for her in the shadows beyond the next little curve. He had drawn out his wand, but he had not lighted it.

Like previously, she imitated her son. Even though she strongly doubted she could really be of much help if they had to fight.

Mathilda said magic was like riding a bike: once you know you never forget. But Lily had never been convinced of the truth of that statement. Besides she had never tried riding in a matter-of-life-and-death race after a retirement of almost two decades… She had always hoped Mathilda was right though.

"Mum?" Harry whispered when she reached him. She shivered.

"Who's my Godfather?"

"wha...?..." words chocked in Lily's throat.

"My godfather, who is it?"

"Sirius - Sirius was…..your father's best mate." Lily fought a chill and the contortions of her stomach " I thought you knew, Harry?"

"And what's his nickname? - What did he offer me for my first birthday?"

"He.."

Striven by a strong foreboding, Lily looked down. Harry's wand was pointed directly toward her. Sticky hands of anguish seized her shoulders.

"..Padfoot! -… It was Padfoot. - And he gave you a little broomstick…you had so much fun with it!…"

The tip of Harry's wand was trembling. Lily added in a whisper which sounded like the apology of a scared child:

"Your dad's nickname was Prongs"

Harry's wand lowered.

"okay"

But fear remained nestled in the small of Lily's neck like a little mouse. She had not checked he really was Harry…

Oh stop! Stop. Stop. She was losing her mind. How anyone could have set up a trap for her? They all thought her dead. And why anyway? That made no sense. All this anger, this pain, this could not have been faked, could this be?

"I'm sorry, mum..."

Lily searched Harry's face but in the half darkness she could not fathom his expression. It only looked like the shadow face of a grown-up Harry.

" I had to. – you understand? I should have even have earlier…sorry"

"- yes, - yes, I understand" murmured Lily back. But she desperately knew it was more a wish of hers than the very truth.

Harry's shadow head nodded slightly and moved away. Lily followed the dark frame of her son, moving farther inward that corridor, carefully stepping over more remainings of whatever once had been all theses scattered grey things. It felt like treading over the bones of the dead castle.

Ahead, somewhere in the background, a piece of blackness detached itself and skimmed at them, ribbonned –shaped. In a mother and son like synchronicity they startled and wielded their wands. Undisturbed, a flood of spiders passed by them and flowed away. Up, down. Up, down. Upon the rocks and away.

Then she saw it. From beneath the conglomeration of granite two yards ahead of her: Dark hairy sticks, rising up to the ceiling like odd black cactus. A strange rush of compassion crawled to Lily, up her shoes, up her legs and chilled her chest. Even the most un-lovable and un-loved creatures in this world had had their due of losses.

She turned to Harry and his shadow pointed hand gestured toward a somewhat smoother square part of the wall. It was underlined by a row of uneven filaments at the bottom which looked like a colony of worm soldiers closing ranks in anticipation of an attack. With one hand, Harry opened this smoother wall-section which appeared to be a frayed tapestry covered with dust, and plunged inside.

Lily followed. A smell of dry old wood, of linen cloth and heavy (and skin scraping) sheets, of woolen covers spotted with moth's bites. The smell of her grand mother's wardrobe. The smell of hogwards's four-poster beds.

"Lumos" whispered Harry's voice

They were a beautiful alcove, the size of small child's bedroom, with painted vaulted ceiling. Harry sat on the floor, resting his back against the left's side of the nook. She did the same on the right's side.

"Assurdiato" said Harry flicking his wand once more. Then he gathered his hands on his lap, loosely. His face appeared, lighted from beneath.

An incredible sadness, cold as the north-sea tided upon Lily. Whatever she would do now and from now on, How ever much she loved him, he'll always be a baby orphan who had grown up.

She had to divert her eyes from her baby grown up orphan.

On the bottom wall hung, again a tapestry, this one completely intact. A small grey skinned being with globular eyes and pointed ears doing some house shores. The elf blinked. She had already come to this place. But when? How?

And so they sat in this little room, facing each other. A young man who had just saved the world, a not so young anymore woman, feeling like a little girl breaking curfew.

In that dim light coming from beneath, Harry looked rather crossed again. But calm. His chest rose and declined quietly, and along moved the shadows on his face. Will he ever understand? Forgive? How has been his life with his adoptive family? What were his dreams?

There was an indistinct something in his manners that seeped in the air around and fell over her like a November drizzle, confining her within its net, squeezing the air out of her lungs and pressing her thudding heart against her cheeks. She squirmed and eventually, gathered up her knees and held them tight in her arms. Why was he so silent? Did he not want to know after all? Did he not care? Should he not yet have overflowed her with questions?

Green eyes met green eyes and Harry blinked, shifted, and gathered his knees under his chin, like she had. Honestly he felt like throwing in her arms again and let himself just be delighted to have her back. He was craving for it but it hurt too much at the same time. She had to make hard choices just like he had. But was this the only way? What would have happened if she had stayed with him? He could only trust Dumbledore's keen mind…but even Dumbledore was only a man…

Lily smiled. Sorry, awkward, tentative smile.

"Ask me whatever you want Harry…"

She closed her eyes a second and little creases appeared under the corners her mouth. Harry strongly hoped she would not burst into tears. But then her hand plunged inside her bag, once more – for a slip second he wondered if there was another letter. But she drew out a small plastic bottle- a muggle bottle- of water, drank a few gulps, glanced at him and put it back inside.

"During all this time - "She cleared her throat, breathed out. "During all this time, I lived in Australia. Near Perth…" Her voice was low, sweet but steady "I live in a small house…not far away from the ocean. A lovely place… for sure. "

She adjusted her position again, and sighed airily.

Harry saw a woman with a green cardigan and a white scarf around her neck, her hair washed away in the steady oceanic gale , a wild tongue of fire lost in a white, white – so white it ached – land edged with divine turquoise blue. An English fairy at the other side of the world. An English fairy exiled in a paradise at the other side of the world.

"there's a little garden, a few flowers…"she paused again.

A sour bubble popped in Harry's stomach. "and ..it never snows in winter" she chuckled in a weird strangled way and Harry suspected her to hush a sob. He suddenly hated himself for feeling like crying too.

"yeah, I know it's pretty hot in Australia." The harshness of his own voice surprised Harry. A sting of guilt prickled his side. He looked down at bright white circle of light at the tip of his wand, dazzling his eyes in it, making it dance by rolling his wand between his palms. Oh yeah... She certainly had not expected him to be so angry. But what had she thought? Hello -I'm back- a hug- and let's go? Let's go where anyway? _Home_?

He stopped the stupid rolling, sighed. Sure he yearned to know she had been doing all this years. And that was probably all what she wanted too. Speak, explain, tale each other's lives and so….He sighed again. The circle of white light sighed too.

"Have you got a ..a _new.._ family there…in ..?"

"No! "

Sweet bitter-bitter fluid gushed through Harry's chest. He looked up. Her eyes were upon him, watching him just like a mother would do.

"No…" she repeated softly. "You are my only family left, Harry"

The sweet bitter-bitter fluid slowly unfolded morphing into a veil and wrapped itself sadly around Harry. The wroth bubbles in his stomach stopped seething.

"So you lived alone?...I mean… so I have no brothers or sisters…?"

Lily shook her head gently. "No. No, Harry you don't." Oh she would almost have smiled if the muscles of her cheeks would not have been so tight.

Harry nodding back, made a sort of grimace: one corner of his mouth turned, while his lips thrust a little out and his nose wrinkled.

And it was like a bonefire had been ignited in Lily's breast. It was very odd though, because Harry still looked crossed, even if there was that little glint of curiosity shining in his eyes, so obvious. So obvious he was just so longing…

In a flash she knew. He used to do that as a baby.

This little wrinkle of his nose when he dithered between vexation or joy. A toddler in blue streaked pyjamas. Profuse hair for his age. Already tousled and rebel to combs. Tiny feet and tiny hands wagging in the air. Tiny fits. Not yet capable of grasping. But trying with all their might to catch one of the magical butterflies from Auntie Meryl 's mobile flying teasingly just out of their reach.

And a little face, grimacing like this.

Lily smiled. In earnest this time.

The glint in Harry 's eyes brightened as though it had been reflecting the bonfire within her breast but then he looked away.

" I have a cat…" said Lily with a strain of cheeky tease in her voice" if you could consider him family.."

Harry turned back to her. The trace of a smile still faintly printed on his face stayed printed. Did not vanish. Did not blossom.

"She's very old …for a cat. I found her ..a few month .." _or was it a year or two?_ " After I had arrived…"_how could she tell him – but she had no right to tell anyway, how the memories of these days – month- years were ugly blurred pain?_ A piece of a cotton cloth. Acid Baby smell. A stupid photograph. A wish-me-luck-stone.

"But I 've found her in Northbridge. That I remember very well."

"One evening, on my way back …home, I found her, limping and mewling near a waste-container. She looked so under-nourished. Could not have belonged to anyone. I took her with me."

"That day had been ..." _horribl_e_? Mashed burning blurred pain_. "I was exhausted but I somehow found a scrap of energy to make myself some tea. She- actually she's a he- so he jumped onto the kitchen table, sniffed my cup, looked at me and blinked liking his lips.

I broke into a nervous laugh..oh my… and poured for him a little of my brew on the saucer.

He licked it all! And I called him mister tea."

"Mister tea?" said an incredulous and frowning Harry. He looked like he would break into a nervous laugh any moment too.

"Yeah a stupid joke-name I know. " said Lily who did not feel like laughing anymore. "But I kept it anyway. It suited him well somehow. He's such a brawny cat. He became one after few weeks. He… I kept the name for a second stupid joke reason too. Because of Mister T- T, the letter, of the A- team TV series. I didn't, but your dad used to love watching that."

Lily, for some odd reason expected Harry to say something like "cool" or to laugh at her outright. But he didn't.

"And so…Since that day it became a little habit of us you know...to drink tea together...me and Mister Tea."

_Mister Tea. T. E.A. who had been the only living thing to seem to understand a little bit. _How she had wished she was dead. But she was in a sense. She had died long ago. stayed quite dead a long ugly blurred time. And then lived a little again. Not Live . just live. A little.

The first time it was after Australia won the America's cup. As though the happiness of people around had forced through the blurred chilly burning armour. drilled a tiny hole into it. A tiny hole through which gratitude breathed out. After all they had been very nice with her. Even the trees the birds and the sea. Whereas she had used the leftovers of her strength to try to hate them all.

And so she had started to live again. A little. Found a correct job. A decent living. Moved to that little house. Little nice decent normal life. While he had to survive through war and fight for his life.

And who had taken care of him? Not _just_ watch for his life like Dumbledore and Severus? Who had raised him? Loved him like a mother? Who was she? How was she?

How had her stomach writhed in jealousy sometimes, even she knew she wasn't allowed to.

SHE had had his first steps, his baby talks, SHE had seen him discover the world, she had his first sea bathes, his first riding a bike, his first bouts of unintentional and uncontrolled magic, his first school day…she had invited his friends, washed his clothes, cooked for him and let him go on the train to Hogwarts…SHE was weaved in his life…HER love had helped him grow…

_This woman_ was his mother…More than she'd ever be…The only traces of her motherhood were a few stretch marks on her hips. But she had chosen. Almost. James had been quicker so he took the best place.

" I have a box, Harry. A little, neat, tineplate box." Lily managed to smile, effortlessly. Harry was very still, as though she was a wild animal he had encountered in the forest and which he was desperately scared to frighten away . " There, in my house. " _It's very precious to me… I've never showed it to anyone you see. _

"Inside there's a few pictures of you, some letters of Dumbledore telling me about you." Harry's brows twitched. He moved a little bit.

"Mister tea's sort of responsible for owl post you know?" she said " He often sits at the kitchen window. He's got a knack to feel them before there're visible to my eye. He took that habit from the very first days I took him with me."

Harry's face furrowed with dark folds. Even darker and deeper because of the way he held his lighted wand.

"He sent you owls?"

She nodded. Cold tiny ants's feet crawling on her back.

"BUT THAT- That was not very clever? "

"Oh Dumbledore was very careful believe me … "

"They could have been intercepted! – They might have found out about you! "

"I promise none was. He was very very careful."

"STILL ! "

His voice rang like a slap in an empty church.

"It was stupid from him!"

Lily bit her lips. Tiny ants biting her insides. _There_ _were not that many letters anyway…you know_ _Harry…_

Silence was thick of their breathings. Harry readjusted his position. The light moved along with his gestures. His shoes scratched on the floor. He now held his wand in a way it stood like a dazzling little barrier of light between them. She could not make out his face any more. But she could see his fingers fiddle on the handle. He made slight clearing noise with his throat.

Lily closed her eyes a second, rested the back of her head against the wall, let some air flow inside her lungs.

An endless beach. Seagulls flying high, high, high and higher. And away. She had chosen. She was the one of them who had chosen. A stone on the beach and a wish me luck stone. Breathing-thick silence. And a stupid photograph.

The little dazzling circular barrier wobbled. And His face reappeared. Grave. A shine in his eyes. "Anyway...you're here now…"


End file.
